Tangerine
by CrackityJane
Summary: After a dangerous mission goes awry, Remus awakens to find himself in Spinner's End. RL/SS
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Sirius' recent death has hit Remus hard. Feeling hopeless and alone, and desperately seeking a way to blot out his grief, Remus focuses his attention on a dangerous mission; a mission that sets off a surprising course of events. Set just after OotP. Drama/Romance/and maximum angst! **

**Disclaimer: I disclaim these characters who, in fact, belong to JKR. Not making a penny out of this either - *snort * I wish. **

**I'm still planning out this story , so I'm open to any suggestions as to where you might like it to go. I hope you enjoy it, and sorry if I'm a bit rusty on the writing – it's been a while!**

* * *

Remus Lupin stared blankly through the kitchen window of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Outside, sprawling far and wide in all it's chaotic splendor, was the back garden – without a doubt the ugliest garden Remus had ever seen. But perhaps that was because of the misery he now associated with the entire place.

'Lupin?'

Remus' head shot sideways, throwing him out of his daze, to see the dark figure of Severus Snape lingering in the doorway. His black eyes were directed at the kettle which Remus was holding to the spout of the water tap. Remus' gaze fell downwards to see that he had failed to even turn on the tap. How long had he been standing there like that? He really didn't have a clue.

'Oh, hello Severus,' he greeted distractedly as he reached a hand out to turn on the cold tap. Water began to flow into the pot, creating a hollow noise that reverberated through the otherwise deathly silent kitchen.

'I presume you received my owl informing you that I was on my way?'

Snape stepped into the kitchen, still scrutinizing Remus with narrowed, wary eyes. With a stiff shrug of his shoulder, his travelling cloak slipped off and he placed it on a nearby stool. Then, folding his arms, he promptly fixed a customary glare on the other man.

'Yes, I did, thank you,' Remus replied, moving to rest the kettle on the hot stove and finally turning to face the Potions Master, 'I'd almost forgotten what time of the month it was. The days fly by, don't they?'

'Indeed.'

Remus' eyes quickly scanned Snape up and down. A mere month had passed since their last vague encounter at an Order meeting, yet Snape's appearance had still changed nonetheless. Peppering his dark, lank hair were added strands of grey around the front, and his sallow skin seemed more translucent than ever. He really did look unhealthy, Remus observed; yet he realised he was hardly one to talk.

His own hair too had been streaked with grey – grey that betrayed the stress he had tried so hard to keep from showing on the outside. Now, the madness within was slowly beginning to creep out; in the dark hollows of his amber eyes, in his dejected walk, in the glazed-over expression that so often haunted his face.

'So,' Remus continued after a moment's silence, 'How are you?'

'The same as each and every other time you've asked me that question, Lupin,' Severus sighed.

Remus didn't know why he bothered. Snape was far from being one for small talk – why should that evening have been any different?

He nodded with a despondent sigh, and watched as Severus put a hand inside his travelling cloak before pulling out a vial of the familiar green substance.

'Do try to keep from vomiting it up this time, won't you?' Snape muttered irritably, approaching Remus and holding out the Wolfsbane for him to take, 'Making the trip back and forth for another vial is bothersome, to say the least.'

With an embarrassed grimace as he accepted the potion from Snape, Remus cast his mind back to last month's debacle. The sugar was nowhere to be found in Grimmauld Place (he suspected Kreacher had thrown it out especially) and so Remus decided that there was nothing for it than to simply drink the potion without his usual spoon or two to blot out the fowl taste.

It had been beyond revolting. The lumpy texture along with the taste that was somewhere between (what Remus imagined was) toilet cleaner and rotten eggs was enough to make him gag and heave up the potion, as well as the rest of the contents of his stomach. He remembered how Snape had predictably kicked up a fuss over Remus' 'Over-sensitive gag reflex', and threw his eyes up to the ceiling.

Sirius had been having none of it though. Like the good friend he was, he had ordered Snape to 'Shut it' and demanded he go back to Hogwarts immediately to fetch another vial.

'Well? What are you waiting for?'

Lupin blinked and realised he had, once again, been frozen mid-action while Snape simply stood watching him, looking thoroughly impatient.

'Oh.' Remus blinked again. 'Sorry.'

'If you must dawdle, Lupin, then do it on your own time,' Snape chastised, 'I can assure you I have much more pressing things to be doing than this.'

'I know, Severus,' Remus replied quietly as he turned to take the sugar bowl from a nearby cupboard, 'I – I know.'

Snape took up a leaning position against the countertop whilst Remus removed the stopper and ever so carefully tipped two spoonfulls of sugar into the narrow tube. The tiny crystals hissed as they fell onto the surface of the thick potion, and dissolved once Remus swished the contents about with a shake of his hand.

Then, looking over his shoulder at Severus, he raised the vial into the air and said with a hopeless smile, 'Cheers.'

Even after years of drinking the same stuff, Remus found that he could never get accustomed to the sheer hideousness of it. He stood on the spot for a few moments with his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the sensation of the goo squirming it's way through his body to end. Snape glanced at the ancient clock over the doorway.

'Well,' Remus finally said after a sigh of relief, 'I think it's time to wash that down with a cup of tea – wouldn't you say?'

He left the empty vial in the sink and turned his attention towards the kettle, which was now tooting loudly for someone to remove it from the stove.

'Is there someone else here?' Snape enquired.

Lupin inclined his head back to see that Snape had wandered over to the coat rack. On it were hanging four brightly-coloured anoraks which Severus now examined, puzzled.

'Ah, yes. They belong to Molly, Arthur, Bill and Fleur. They arrived earlier on today to help me... pack away some things.'

Snape regarded Lupin carefully, and Remus could tell that his keen mind had already worked out the meaning behind his vague explanation. He turned his head back and busied himself preparing the tea. A pot. Two teabags. A small jug of milk.

'You're gathering up Black's belongings,' he heard Snape say from across the room.

'Do you take sugar? I can never remember...' mumbled Lupin as he reached into a cupboard to pluck out two cups.

It was at that very moment that Remus' heart dropped into his shoes. He realised that he had grabbed none other than Sirius' mug.

It had been a silly little house-warming gift. Sirius had just moved back into the Black mansion following his stint in Azkaban, and Remus couldn't help himself. The mug itself was bright pink with the words 'I Love Pink!' written in bold, white lettering.

'If you're trying to convert me into a poof, Moony, then you can forget it!' Sirius had laughed once the wrapping paper had been torn away and he finally laid eyes on it. Nevertheless, the animagus had used the mug shamelessly every single day - even in the presence of Dumbledore – without a hint of embarrassment.

Balling his hands into tight fists, Remus began to dig his finger nails deep into the skin of his palms – hard, in the hopes that the pain would distract him. But it was no use. A lump gradually began to rise through his neck, causing him to swallow forcibly and bow his head.

Soon, Snape's steady footsteps could be heard moving closer and closer towards Remus.

_'Don't look at me. Please just don't look at me.' _Lupin pleaded in his mind. This was the worst possible scenario he could have imagined.

'Having tea with you is at the very bottom of my agenda, Lupin,' Snape could be heard muttering as he drew nearer, 'So don't even both- '

He stopped once Remus' face had come into view.

'Lupin?'

The grief was overwhelming; Like a balloon that was over-inflated and ready to burst. Remus' bottom lip trembled dangerously as hot tears began to sting his already raw eyes. He turned his head away from Severus, but it was too late. Snape had already seen everything.

'Why – What on earth - '

Remus finally snapped. A week of blistering, white-hot anger came spluttering from his mouth as he turned to loom over Snape.

'I realise that emotion.. of any kind is very difficult for you.. to fathom, Severus,' Lupin shouted, gasping for air every so often as the tears rolled down his face, 'But _yes_ - these are tears. And _yes_ – I'm _crying_. I'm a grown man.. and I'm crying. Go on then! Spit out whatever s-snarky comment you have stored away.. for special moments like this! I know you're _dying_ to.'

Right on queue, heavy drops of rain began to splatter against the kitchen window, and the room was plunged into darkness. The hollows and creases of Snape's face appeared harsher in the dull light, and the frown lines that began to form along his brow were especially pronounced. His expression was inscrutable – somewhere between confusion, anger and discomfort.

But Lupin didn't care. He was beyond caring, in fact. Turning his back on a silent Severus, he moved to take a seat at the head of the long kitchen table. Then, putting his face into his hands, he gave one last bitter sob.

'What's happened? Severus? What - '

Molly had appeared at the doorway - obviously alarmed by the shouting - and peered in anxiously at the two men.

The next thing Remus knew, a warm hand had curled around his shoulders and clutched him tightly. Closing his aching eyes, he leaned into Molly's motherly hug and exhaled shakily.

'Shh, there, there. I know.' She soothed, drawing the hair from Remus' face with a soft hand.

He soon composed himself, and the harsh reality of his recent outburst suddenly hit him. He gave Molly's hand a grateful squeeze and twisted around in his chair, intending to apologise profusely – but Snape had already left, without a word.

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Review? * Nudge * Please?


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the lovely reviews of Chapter 1! **

**Chapter Two**

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No more than four weeks later, Remus found himself sitting along the banks of a narrow stream – a stream that he, along with fifteen others, had been trailing beside for days.

Since vacating Grimmauld Place and relocating the Order headquarters to the Burrow, Dumbledore had expressed the need to have a spy amongst Voldemort's recently recruited pack of werewolves. The pack were a major threat to the wizarding world as well as muggles, and the prospect of Voldemort unleashing them on unsuspecting children was terrifying. Knowing it was naturally a job for him, and also a chance to take his mind off torturing memories of Sirius, Remus had stepped up to the challenge.

Dumbledore had deduced that the most effective way of removing the threat would be to turn them against Voldemort – a job that rested with Remus.

Fenrir Greyback, the packs leader, was a major obstacle to Remus' plan, however. Greyback was the most dangerous of them all. He relentlessly preached equality for all werewolves - something which he firmly believed could only be achieved by killing those that stood in his way, and by infecting as many as possible. It was because of him that Lupin's job there was going to be extremely difficult.

Night was falling fast – a night that was, incidentally, of the full moon variety. The anticipation around the group was palpable. Heads were twitching and moods were teetering between uneasiness and fully blown rage as each sensed their transformations looming closer.

Remus leaned over the river bank and splashed his face with ice-cold water. He had already managed to discreetly down that month's vial of wolfsbane potion, and was anxious to see how the others would act in wolf form. He looked to his left and saw a woman not much older than himself sitting on the grass, her head directed upwards to the sky. Her features were severe and pointed, and her face looked weather-beaten. Presumably she had been travelling with the pack from the very beginning.

'Nervous?' Remus asked after ensuring Fenrir was nowhere within listening distance.

She looked at him, startled.

'I'm never nervous. This is our kind's way of life. We're wild animals, just like the Ministry says.'

'I'm only a wild animal once a month, I'll have you know,' Remus replied, 'And the same goes for you. Even at that, the condition can be controlled.'

He waited to see if his words had had any effect on her, and after a moment of contemplative silence, he pressed on.

'Do you agree with what Fenrir is saying then? That in order to be seen as equals, we must all be on the same level – and everyone must be infected?'

The woman's posture straightened, and she nodded. 'Yes. I do.'

Remus fought to hold back a sigh and, deciding to take a new approach, he enquired: 'Do you have any children?'

Her face suddenly darkened and her gaze dropped to her feet.

'Two,' she replied in a barely audible whisper, 'Thomas and Lilah. Their father took them away, though, after – after I was bitten. He said it was for their safety – but I'd never do my own children any harm!'

Remus could see that her eyes were brimming with tears, and hope of getting through to her ignited in his chest.

'I know you wouldn't. And I know that you were treated unfairly - but it's no reason to follow this pack.' His whisper was marked with a note of urgency that grew stronger as he went on, 'They mean to do serious harm in Voldemort's name. And I can say in all certainty that if Fenrir Greyback were to cross paths with Thomas or Lilah, he wouldn't think twice about infecting both of them. Is that the future you want for your children?'

She slowly raised her head up to look at Remus, tears dripping from her jawline.

'No,' she breathed, before an expression of pure horror suddenly dawned on her face.

'Well, well, well,' came a deep snarl from above Remus' head. The woman scrambled to her feet and darted away, leaving Lupin alone with the blood draining from his face. He rose from the grass and stood to face none other than Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf's appearance alone was frightening; fierce black eyes, sharpened teeth, sores and blemishes blotching his face – all in all a very intimidating presence.

'It appears we have a do-gooder in our ranks,' Fenrir continued as he took another step closer, 'Who sent you then? The Ministry? How can you even work for werewolf-hating scum like them? You're an embarrassment to our kind.'

'The Ministry didn't send me,' Lupin swallowed, 'I'm here for my own reasons.'

'Is that right?'

Remus' stomach churned as a drop of saliva trickled from Greyback's mouth and landed on his robes. He was clearly ravenous for his next feed. Whether it was to be human or a wild animal was all just a matter of what was within trekking distance.

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus quickly spotted it just over the horizon. The moon had finally illuminated into full life for all of the pack to see. One by one, each of the group's bodies began to shudder violently and hunch over in pain.

Taking one last moment to glare menacingly at Remus, Fenrir put his mouth to Lupin's ear and growled:

'Let's see how self-righteous you are after I'm done with you.'

Remus froze before a blood-curdling cry escaped his mouth, and he too doubled over in agony. Each pore on his skin seared with white-hot pain as rough, brown fur sprouted all over his body. Bones could be heard snapping from the force of his skeleton morphing into place, and he could feel his face elongating beyond all recognition.

And then it was over.

He glanced around with new-found night vision, not daring to move. The sound of whimpering began to resonate from every angle. But whimpering soon turned to howling as the pack members revelled in their animal alter-egos.

This was the last thing Remus remembered before a jaw of sharpened teeth clamped down on his shoulder, and blood spattered across his face.

* * *

Dry eyelids slowly opened to reveal bloodshot, amber eyes. Christ, they felt like sandpaper. He blinked once, then twice - but his vision remained blurred. It was evening-time; he could tell that much. And he was freezing. His head fell to the side, causing a violent wave of dizziness to crash over him. So violent that he would have vomited if the outline of a person overhead hadn't caught his attention.

'Wha -' he croaked when the figure suddenly bent down to his level.

'Keep still.'

The voice sounded distant and it echoed in Lupin's ears. Everything seemed so strangely far away and out of focus – like a dream. Feeling something sticky making contact with his skin, Remus flinched and let out a groan. Merlin, how it stung.

'What are - Where's Padfoot?' he mumbled, trying to knock the figure away. But he could barely raise his hand, nor form proper words.

'_Where's_ _Sirius_?' Remus demanded again when he received no answer.

'He's not coming.'

'I – Why?' he persisted, more confused than ever, 'Get me a glass of water, will you? I'm fucking _parched_.'

At that moment, Remus felt a hand grip his wrist tightly. He intended to growl back at his attacker, but alas, another hand was soon clasped over his mouth.

'Listen to me very carefully, Lupin. You've lost a large amount of blood and you're more than likely suffering from hypothermia. If you intend on not dying, then I suggest you focus on staying conscious instead of prattling off utter nonsense.'

Remus blinked, and recognition of who the figure was suddenly flicked in his mind.

'Snape?'

'Keep _still_, I said. I only have so much of this ointment.'

'What in Merlin's beard is... going... on?' Lupin managed to mutter, before his vision darkened once again, and his mangled body was taken prisoner by unconsciousness.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Remus gasped at the pain that greeted him upon awakening. Feeling an intense urge to itch, he brought an uninjured hand across his bare torso and up to touch his left shoulder, only to find that a bandage had been wrapped around the spot. Then lowering his hand further, he noticed another bandage around his lower ribcage. As the drowsiness gradually lifted, he was further startled to realise he was, in fact, laying in a bed.

Remus' brow furrowed, puzzled by his surroundings. It wasn't Grimmauld Place, for it lacked that thick layer of dust that would stubbornly coat every surface. Neither was it the Burrow – of that, Remus was certain. There was a minimalistic feel to the room, with the only furnishings being the bed in which he lay, a wardrobe and a bedside table on top of which nothing was placed but a solitary candle. The Weasley's, on the other hand, had a strange penchant for unnecessary clutter – mostly Arthur's collection of electrical goods.

The owner clearly had no interest in bright colours either – yet another indication that it most definitely was_ not_ the Burrow.

Remus' eyes darted to the window on his left. It was a dark, gloomy day and the street outside glistened with the latest downpour of rain. In the distance beyond a dense group of trees, he spotted a thick trail of smoke gliding from the large chimney of what he guessed was a factory. Where was he – and more importantly, what on earth had gotten him in this state?

Suddenly hearing footsteps approach the door of the room, Remus immediately shut his eyes and froze into place. He listened as the handle twisted downwards and the door creaked back on it's hinges menacingly. If only he could just take a peek to see who his captor was – but Remus knew that might prove to be a huge mistake. His injuries seemed severe and he had no idea where his wand was, so he was at a complete disadvantage. There was a chance that this person – whomever he or she was – could very well be a Death Eater intending to use him as a bargaining tool of some sort, knowing his luck.

The footsteps drew nearer until they suddenly paused a mere meter or so away. The room was deathly silent for a few moments, and Remus could barely fight back the urge to open his eyes any longer. He sensed the weight of the stranger leaning on the metal frame along the foot of the bed, before the footsteps began once again. Closer and closer they came, and finally they were right there at his side. The sound of material softly brushing together met his ears, and then a light sigh. So far, so still-alive.

However, all the restraint and calmness that Lupin prided himself on could not manage to hold back what he did next. A hand had made contact with his left shoulder and proceeded to undo the bandage that covered it. The searing pain that shot up and down Remus' arm in response was nothing short of excruciating. Thanking his werewolf speed, Remus' good hand shot upwards and grabbed the wrist of his captor before they could pull away.

Eyes opening and jaw clenched angrily, Lupin's gaze finally fell on the pale, seething face of Severus Snape standing over him.

'Would you kindly remove your hand, Lupin? Or would you rather _lose_ it?'

Surprise dawned on Remus' face and his mouth fell open. He looked to where his hand was clenched around Snape's wrist and quickly withdrew it.

'Severus – I,' Remus stuttered croakily, 'What the bloody hell is going on?'

Snape stepped back from the bed and clasped his wrist for a moment. Remus felt a pang of shame to realise it had been the wrist bearing the Dark Mark that he had grabbed in his fit of panic.

'You remember nothing?' Snape enquired, his eyes narrowing. 'You were mistaken for a ministry spy on the night of the full moon and attacked.'

A frown darkened Remus' face as he attempted to cast his mind back, and sure enough, the memory of a woman and then Fenrir Greyback looming over him flashed before his eyes. He remembered the feeling of sheer terror as the blood gushed from his wide-open wounds and he crumbled in a whimpering mess on the soft ground beneath him.

'How did you know?' Lupin breathed, his eyes glazing over.

'Fenrir Greyback has a habit of bragging about his latest victims.'

'The two of you spoke?'

Snape nodded and, turning his back on Lupin, he approached the window to gaze out.

'There was a summons on the evening following the full moon - yesterday. Greyback is always desperate for the Dark Lord's approval, and he'll grab at any chance he can get his claws on to show his loyalty. As you'd imagine, he was very eager to tell everyone present about the Ministry spy whom he mauled and left for dead.'

He turned at that to cast a sardonic look at Lupin. 'You obviously came to mind once I heard, so I set about gathering information on your whereabouts.'

'But how did you manage it without looking suspicious?'

'I told Greyback that I wanted you for various unpleasant experiments. It was relatively straightforward. Needless to say, you were lucky to still be alive when I found you.'

Remus swallowed. His throat was unbearably dry, and hearing about his close shave with death was making it considerably dryer.

'I was a damn fool.' he sighed, bringing a hand up to rub his aching eyes, 'Letting my guard down like that in the presence of a maniac, not keeping on my toes – I mean, what was I _thinking_?

'I have no idea.'

Lupin shifted uncomfortably, wincing as his shoulder gave another throb. Seeing this, Snape once again approached the bed.

'The reason I was removing the bandage was simply because you don't need it any more.' he muttered, reaching a hand out to Lupin's shoulder for a second time. Remus eyed him warily, but allowed him to continue nonetheless.

'The ointment I applied to the wounds after finding you caused them to close up completely within about three hours,' he went on after finally pealing off the bandage, 'It's the broken bones and fractures that take the longest time to heal. I expect you'll feel more comfortable by tomorrow morning however.'

A smile flitted across Remus' mouth for a moment as gratitude swelled in his chest.

'Thank you for this, Severus.'

Alas, Remus' words of appreciation seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, and Snape simply stared back at him blankly.

'You seem to be under the impression that I did this out of kindness, Lupin, when I meant no such thing. I was obliged to do so as a fellow member of the Order. Nothing more.'

'I realise that, but thank you anyway.'

'The bandage along your ribs must be removed as well,' Snape went on after a moment, clearly deciding to ignore and disregard everything Remus had just said.

Lupin looked up at him with a pained expression, but submitted to the request. He watched nervously and flinched as the other man leaned over him and carefully lifted away the blood soaked fabric. Remus was relieved to see that that wound too had merely left behind a faded scar in it's wake – one more to add to his already sizeable collection.

'Thank Merlin,' Lupin said hoarsely, running his fingers over the patch of skin which the bandage had covered, 'I was afraid my good looks might have suffered at the hands of Greyback, but apparently not.'

He looked up at Snape for some kind of reaction; a smirk, a raised eyebrow, a grimace – but there was nothing. If anything, his scowl had darkened.

'Ah,' Remus continued chirpily, if a little put-out, 'So I assume this is your house?'

'Yes, and taking your wand out in this particular area is not advisable.' Snape informed him as he turned to walk towards the door, 'This estate is filled with muggles – many of them idiotic substance abusers. It's in the press of the bedside table, by the way, if you were wondering. Soup will be ready in about ten minutes.'

Remus nodded with another good-natured smile and allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow.

'Oh, and Lupin,' he looked over again to see that Snape had reappeared in the doorway and was now regarding Remus carefully, 'That woman you spoke to; apparently she fled from the pack since your discussion. So your carelessness wasn't a complete waste.'

And he disappeared once again, closing the door behind him. Remus could barely contain a leap of joy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! This was initially a much longer chapter, but I changed my mind about something at a certain point and went about re-writing it. Unfortunately I haven't put the finishing touches on the final part, so I said I'd just put up what I had done in the meantime, just to get something out there. Thanks again for the fabulous reviews. X**

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to JKR. Only the slashy plot is mine.**

**(constantinexfreak** **: I wish I could give a deep and meaningful reason as to why I named this story 'Tangerine', but it's just down to the fact that I was listening to a song called 'Tangerine' when I began writing it! Giving titles to my fics isn't one of my strongest points at all, along with writing summaries =] )**

**.................................................**

The soup had gone down remarkably well that morning; vegetable, with small cubes of fresh brown bread that floated along the surface and dissolved in an explosion of warm dough in Remus' mouth. He was hardly surprised that it had tasted so wonderful; he imagined that for Severus, preparing soup was much like brewing a potion – a very precise and meticulous process.

As he dozed on a pleasantly full stomach, Remus was rudely awakened by an almighty * pop * from the next room. His body jerked into wakefulness, and his keen gaze shot to the door just before it flew open with a forceful shove from the other side. Without a word of greeting, Snape strode in to approach the bed and unceremoniously dropped a parcel onto the sheets covering Remus' knees. Then, taking up a position by the window, he stood there, sullen and unmoving, like a forgotten statue that remained unfinished by it's sculptor.

Remus exhaled, sinking back onto the pillow. In the short period of time between then and waking that morning his shoulder had improved a great deal, as had his ribs. In light of it's remarkable effectiveness, Remus made a mental note to somehow weasel the recipe for that curious ointment out of Snape before his time at Spinner's End was at an end.

'What's this?' Remus asked, propping himself up against the headboard whilst fixing an apprehensive gaze on the parcel.

'I fetched some of your clothing from the Burrow,' Snape replied distractedly as he turned to heave open the window an inch, 'What you were wearing before is in tatters.'

Remus grimaced as a pleasant rosy-pink flushed into his cheeks. How he hated the havoc his condition sometimes wreaked on his wardrobe. In shreds, they were; an ensemble lost for each time he was unable to change out of his clothing before the transformation. Lupin could barely afford a sodding tie, never mind a completely new outfit.

'Thanks,' he replied, reaching forward to tear off the brown paper wrapping that had been fastidiously held in place with what seemed like meters of twine, 'I was rather hoping this nudity thing was short term.'

Inside the package on top of the neatly folded clothes, Remus was pleasantly surprised to find a short note written in Molly's unmistakeably delicate handwriting.

_Dear Remus,_

_We were all shocked to hear about your recent accident, and hope you'll make a very speedy recovery. Needless to say, we didn't tell Harry. The poor dear has enough on his plate as it is. If Professor Snape is mistreating you in any way, you will let us know, won't you?_

_All our love and kisses,_

_The Weasley Family._

Grinning, Remus put aside the letter and drew out the perfectly pressed trousers, shirt, jumper, socks and underwear, and set them out on the bed before him. He thanked Merlin that he had stored a few items of clothing at the Weasley's house. Otherwise the package would probably have contained Arthur's clothes instead, which would have been something of a disaster. Lupin was tall, to put it mildly, and Arthur - not so much.

Remus brought his head up and glanced towards the window, expecting to see a bored Severus glaring in his direction; but he was nowhere to be seen. The Potions Master had certainly mastered the art of slipping in and out of rooms totally unnoticed.

................................................

'What do you think you're doing?' Severus demanded, suddenly lowering his book from where it had been positioned right beneath his hooked nose.

After placing it down on the arm rest of his chair, he stood to glare in the direction of the doorway, where a dishevelled-looking Remus had appeared. It was late afternoon, and the view of outside through the small sitting-room window revealed a dulling sky that reflected back onto the puddles of the cobblestone street below.

Lupin had been unable to put it off any longer. After managing to drag on his new-found trousers and shirt - ignoring the aches and pains as he did so - Remus had limped, step by tedious step, from his bed and through the hallway to where he now stood, slightly hunched-over, in the doorway of Snape's sitting room. Flinching, he awkwardly propped his fragile body next to the door frame for support, and clutched a hand to his lightly-throbbing ribs.

'I have to - '

'Undo all my hard work?' Snape cut in, drawing closer, 'Are you _really_ that oblivious about the healing process, Lupin? You're supposed to be resting -'

'Severus, I have to _piss_.'

Snape stopped in his tracks to regard Lupin disdainfully, a mocking smirk playing across his lips as he folded his arms with unadulterated relish.

Remus would, of course, have done the deed without any input whatsoever from Snape – throbbing pain or not - but he was well aware that any wandering around the house on his own would not have been in the least bit welcomed by the intensely private Slytherin.

'Now,' Lupin continued, shifting uncomfortably against the cold wood by his arm, 'It's either I simply endure a bit of soreness for a few moments, or I die of a burst bladder. It's up to you.'

'How humiliating this must be for you, Lupin; a grown man, and yet you still need to be tended to like a child.'

Painfully aware that his last shred of dignity was about to desert his haggard body like a spooked horse, Remus allowed his head to fall against the door frame.

'Look, could you please just... give me a hand?'

He looked pleadingly at Severus with tired, amber orbs, hoping against hope that the git would just, for once, cut the snide commentary.

Finally, Snape raised an eyebrow and uncrossed his arms with an apathetic sigh. He stepped closer to the auburn-haired man, pausing for a moment once he reached his side as though contemplating the task ahead.

Then with an awkward clearance of his throat, Lupin felt every last muscle in his body tense as Snape's left hand encircled his back. The hand then lowered until it finally came to rest around Lupin's waist where it formed a sturdy grip. Soon taking Snape's lead, Remus slid his right hand over the Potions Master's shoulder and clutched around the crook of his neck for support.

Despite his previous misgivings about how this situation might pan out, Remus felt oddly comfortable in Snape's clutches. He had imagined any number of awful things about the Potions Master that would make this experience an unpleasant one; ice cold, skeletal hands creeping their way around his body, the stench of chemicals and various potion ingredients so strong that it would sting the back of Remus' throat, a biting hostility radiating from Snape's very bones. The list went on and on. But to Lupin's disbelief, his expectations had been completely off target.

Snape's hand was warm; surprisingly so, in fact, and the sensation of it slipping across the thin material of his shirt and running over his spine was, Remus had to admit, not a wholly disagreeable one. Not only that, but Severus' whole body seemed to possess a cosy warmth that emanated from his side to Remus' as they pressed firmly together. And while there was a faint smell of sulphur and smoke from the man, it really wasn't pungent in the least. If he was honest, Remus quite liked it. It reminded him of hours spent in Slughorn's Potions classes, stifling giddy laughter over the disastrous concoctions he would brew with his lab partner Sirius, while in a far corner of the room, a teenaged Severus would hunch over his ingredients, measuring them out to total perfection and irritably batting away his partners hand when he or she tried to assist. Oh, no; Snape could do it by himself.

Looking to his side, Remus gave a half-hearted grin.

'Right. Well. You lead the way then, Severus.'

Snape grunted, not even glancing in Lupin's direction, and directed the werewolf's body back out into the hallway he had just passed through moments before. Soon enough, the two found themselves standing before another door.

'Is this it then?' Remus enquired, wheezing with exertion after their short journey.

'Yes. I presume you can take it from here? In any case, this is as far as I'm going.'

Remus gave a short chuckle. He realised that Snape had meant every word, yet there was something terribly humorous about this strange situation. A situation that he never for one moment thought he'd find himself in with Severus Snape, of all people.

'Don't worry, Severus, I can handle it from here. Thank you for offering all the same.'

'I didn't - ' Snape began defensively, but stopped after catching the amused look on the other man's face.

His face darkening, Snape then released his grip on Remus' waist, and Remus' hand fell away from Snape's neck accordingly. Then after a small nod, Lupin finally disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Hi again, everyone! Thank you very very much for the reviews – they had me blushing, lol! Things are a bit hectic at the moment what with trying to find a place to live with some friends for college, but I will try my best and keep updating as regularly as I can. Hope you like!**

**Disclaimer: I'm not JKR, hence these aren't my characters.**

* * *

Remus' ears were met with the hollow sound of water drip-dropping from it's stainless steel tap into the white, porcelain basin below. His eyes scanned the room, narrowing as they absorbed the impossibly bleak surroundings. Snape's bathroom, much like the rest of the house, was completely void of character. Where was the razor? The shaving foam? The shower gel and shampoo? Where was the sodding toothbrush? It was as though the house had been stripped bare, blank as an untouched roll of parchment.

Monotonous white tiles covered every inch of wall, except for the odd missing one that interrupted the otherwise perfect pattern of white squares. White had never looked so gloomy, Remus thought with a dubious sigh.

The remains of the evening light beamed drearily through the bathroom's small, frosted glass window, casting a dull blue haze over every surface in the room and washing out any faint trace of brightness.

Remus stepped forward, running his fingers across the cold curves of the pristine sink and it's taps as he did so.

Alas, the relief of emptying his bladder was not without it's downfall. Like a lash of a whip, Remus' body instantly went into shock as a sharp pain shot through his lower abdomen. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his bottom lip in an attempt to prevent a yelp of pain from escaping his mouth. With the sound of his heart beating madly in his ears, Lupin reached forward and tugged on the overhanging chain. The toilet began to whoosh with water, bringing a welcome break from the unnerving silence, and somewhat distracting Remus from the aftershocks of pain that were now radiating through his limbs.

He approached the basin, putting a hand on either side and bowing down his head – half in exhaustion and half in avoidance of the mirror before him. He was more than aware that he must look like shit, and no reflection of himself was needed to confirm that fact. Sweat began to glisten across his skin, making his hair stick to his forehead in damp clumps. He focused on his breathing, willing the soreness to fade away so he could just hobble back to bed and roll up into a miserable ball - but it wasn't meant to be. Before he knew it, another stab of pain cut into his stomach like a knife, and this time nothing could stifle the loud gasp that shot from his lungs and echoed through the room.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. He wasn't meant to be here. He should be in Grimmauld Place with Sirius where everything was familiar and at least one person gave a damn about whether he dropped dead or not. What was he doing here with Snape - undoubtedly the one person that represented everything Sirius hated?

A knock sounded at the door and Remus clenched his jaw.

'Lupin?' came Snape's voice from the other side. It seemed he was unable to even feign concern, and instead came off sounding rather irritated.

'I'm _fine_,' Remus hissed through gritted teeth, 'I just - '

All over again, a sizzling pain lashed across his stomach and he doubled over with a groan. At the other side of the door Severus was growing steadily more impatient, and again rapped his knuckles against the wood.

'Merlin, you _are_ potty trained aren't you?' came Snape's muffled voice, 'Although I wouldn't be surprised - '

'Severus, everything is fine_,_' repeated Remus squeezing his eyes shut, though he knew that at this point everything was far from fine, _'_Now please could you _just_ - '

Before the final words could hiss from Remus' mouth, the bathroom door began to creak on it's hinges as it breezed open. The distinctive, black-booted footsteps approached him. Remus inclined his head to the side to find Snape hovering overhead, his frown lines deepening across that sallow face as he absorbed this pathetic image.

'What have you done _now_?'

Remus opened his mouth to spit out a seething reply, choked full of profanities; but then came the last straw. With his legs finally buckling beneath him and his hands slipping from the basin, he began to fall in a mess to the tiled floor – or at least he would have, if Snape hadn't grabbed him and hauled him back up. His hands had deftly swept beneath the material of Remus' unbuttoned shirt in a flash of quick-mindedness, and firmly gripped at the sweat-drenched skin.

Though extremely groggy, Remus felt himself being led over to the bath, on the edge of which Snape then set him down in a seated position. While still clasping Remus' shoulder to ensure he didn't keel over, Snape delved into his trouser pocket and pulled out his wand. Then, pointing it at the werewolf, he muttered an incantation before replacing the wand back in his pocket once again.

Before Remus knew it, he was swept up into Snape's arms as though he weighed nothing at all, and was lifted through the hall and back into the bedroom where he had started off that morning. Leaning over the bed, Snape then carefully laid Remus' body lengthways across the mattress and stood back to survey the patient. Remus' fair-skinned face had been drained of all colour, causing the scars that etched across it to appear angry and more prominent.

'Where is the pain?' Snape asked urgently, scanning Remus' body up and down with narrowed eyes.

Lupin's hand drifted downwards until it stopped right in the centre of his lower abdomen.

'Here,' he replied hoarsely.

Snape's eyes darted downwards to Remus's stomach. Then, reaching out a hand, he rested his palm on the area. Gently, he ran it across the damp skin, applying pressure at certain points and causing Remus to hiss in pain.

The Potions Master turned his head at that to look at Lupin, his hand still remaining on the same spot across the man's stomach. Remus met his gaze. Snape' night-sky eyes seemed to be saying something – screaming something, in fact; though what it could be, Remus had no idea. Nor had he time to attain the meaning behind it, for the moment was over almost as swiftly as it had began.

Snape quickly withdrew his hand and stepped back from the bed.

'Fragments of bone from your broken ribs appear to have pierced your bladder,' he affirmed in a careful voice, 'That's almost certainly what's causing this pain.'

He approached the foot of the bed and placed a hand each on the metal railing.

'I realise it's difficult for you to follow simple instruction, Lupin,' he continued, glaring straight at Remus, 'But _do not_ under any circumstances leave this bed unless you have permission from me first to do so.'

'That's all very well, Severus, but what on earth do you expect me to do about needing the bathroom? It's hardly something I can just stop from happening.' Remus demanded, his face contorted with pain.

'There is a potion I can give you that will stave off the need to _piss_, as you so eloquently put it. As for your punctured bladder, I'll set about brewing something to push out the bone particles and heal the wounds. Until then you'll just have to - '

Snape stopped dead. The sound of the front door being feverishly pounded had begun to echo through the small house and reached the two men's ears.

'Were you expecting someone?' Remus asked in a hushed voice, though he already knew by Snape's unsettled demeanour that that was not the case.

Without a word of reply, Snape darted towards the bedroom window and cautiously inched back the curtain to peer outside. Remus watched on as Snape then allowed the curtain to fall back and his neck strained with an uneasy swallow.

'Severus?'

The thumping of the front door boomed through the house once again. The evening caller was clearly becoming impatient.

Snape turned away from the window to face Remus, his face fixed with an expression of resoluteness.

'I must ask you to remain completely calm for this, Lupin.'

'For what?' Remus asked anxiously as he sensed himself become decidedly uncalm, 'Who's at the - '

'_Snape! I can smell you in there! Open the bloody door!'_

It was then that Remus realised the source of Snape's trepidation. That voice – that awful, guttural snarl – belonged to none other than Fenrir Greyback. Remus' heart jumped into his throat.

'I assume he hasn't come for a quiet chat and a cup of tea,' he snorted, albeit in a shaky voice.

'No,' Snape replied distractedly, as he moved towards the bedroom door, 'Take off your clothes and get into bed. If you follow my lead then perhaps you'll come away from this totally unscathed.'

'You want me to play dead, don't you?' sighed Remus, already knowing the answer.

'Unconscious, preferably.'

* * *

Deciding that there was no way he was going to remove his clothes manually (the pain would surely have turned him inside out), Remus reached across to the bedside table and fumbled inside the press for his wand. Finally he found it and plucked it out. Then, pointing it at himself, his trousers and shirt slipped away from his body and fell in a pile on the wooden floor accordingly. Another swish of his wand and they disappeared under the bed, out of sight. From there, Remus stiffly hauled his legs beneath the bed sheets and position himself like a coma patient in a hospital; peaceful yet blank, like the dead body of his best friend that he never got the chance to see.

As he laid there motionless, Remus's ears sought out the muted sounds of heavy footsteps and an unmistakable growl. Greyback couldn't have arrived at a worse time. All Remus wanted to do at that very moment was get some much-needed sleep; not play pretend.

Then the thought occurred to him; if something were indeed to happen and Fenrir saw through Remus' act – would Snape do anything to prevent him from being attacked by the bloodthirsty werewolf? Snape's role as a spy within Voldemort's ranks was paramount to the fight against the dark wizard, and anything that would arouse suspicion about him would be disastrous. Surely acting as though he cared about Remus' safety in the presence of Greyback would be seen as suspect? In that case... Snape would be forced to allow Greyback to do whatever he wished with Remus.

Lupin shuddered at the thought of being ripped to shreds while Snape watched on, and forced himself to focus on the task ahead, hoping against hope that Greyback wouldn't seek him out - though he knew that was more than likely the reason he came in the first place.

Sure enough, the footsteps drew nearer until they were right outside the bedroom door. It flew open and slammed against the adjacent wall. Remus' muscles tensed. This was an acute moment of deja vu...

'So here he is then. Our little _Snow White_.'

Two pairs of footsteps slowly entered the room. One stopped by the foot of the bed, while the other continued right up to Remus' side. From the acrid smell of dried blood and rotting meat that had suddenly poisoned the air, Lupin knew that it was Fenrir looming overhead.

'For now, until the wounds heal.' Snape replied coolly, 'He is of no use to me if he isn't in full health – otherwise, the effects of the potions I plan to test on him would be inconclusive.'

Greyback grunted, and Remus could sense that he had lowered his face to inspect him more closely.

'Weak little thing, ain't he? No wonder Dumbledore sent him out on a suicide mission to get rid of him.' He chuckled at that; a throaty, harsh chuckle filled with vitriol instead of actual joy. Lupin felt his blood begin to boil.

'I assure you, Lupin is as big a threat as any other within Dumbledore's inner circle,' responded Snape matter-of-factly, 'He is a shrewd man with a quick mind and considerable duelling skills. You were lucky, Greyback – catching him off guard like that in the midst of a transformation. If circumstances had been slightly different, then you would most likely have been the one at death's door.'

Greyback snarled at the Potions Master in annoyance. Anyone else and the werewolf might have taken a bite out of him, but he knew as well as any that Snape was certainly not one to mess with.

'You're fairly quick to defend this grovelling piece of filth, Snape,' Fenrir sneered back at him, 'Formed an attachment, 'ave we? I suppose it's nice to have someone other than yourself in your bed for once - '

'I wouldn't finish that if I were you, Greyback; not if you want to leave this house in one piece. What was it you came for other than to see him?'

Fenrir snorted, clearly satisfied he had ruffled the man's feathers.

'I want him. When you're finished with him.'

'Nonsense.'

'Listen here, Snape, this cretin cost me two members of my pack so far. Another one's fled since the first one he managed to convert with his Dumbledore propaganda, and it's got the rest of 'em uneasy as well. I can't afford to lose any more - we _need_ to keep our numbers up.'

'It is no one's fault but your own if you're failing to keep tabs on your slaves, Greyback.'

'Which is why I'm gonna tear him to pieces and use him as an example to the rest of 'em.'

Remus' heart thumped in his chest.

'I'm gonna hold his carkas up in front of the others,' Fenrir continued, 'and show 'em that if they even _think_ of leaving, I'll track 'em down and rip 'em apart limb from limb, just like I'm gonna do to him. Let's see how many scarper after that.'

The room was silent for a moment as Snape seemed to ponder the request.

'I'll think about it.'

Lupin restrained a sigh of relief.

'What the bloody hell do you mean you'll _think about it_?' snapped an enraged Greyback.

'The body of a werewolf is highly valuable, Greyback. His blood alone can be used in any number of deadly concoctions, and I'm certain the Dark Lord would find that much more useful than what you're planning.'

Fenrir stepped away from Lupin's side, probably to loom over Snape in an attempt to intimidate him.

'You _slimy_ old - '

'If that's all you came here to say, then I think it's time you _left_,' Snape hissed, so quietly it was almost a whisper, 'I would hate to think yet another member of your dwindling pack fled in your absence.'

Remus could hear Greyback's intake of breath through bared, sharpened teeth before his thudding footsteps disappeared out of the room and through to the hall. Finally, the sound of the front door being thrown open and slammed shut so violently it could have flown of it's hinges met Remus' ears, and his eyelids flickered open.

Looking straight back at him from where he stood at the foot of the bed was Snape, appearing surprisingly unaffected by the intense confrontation.

Though still somewhat shaken, a grin flashed across Remus' pale face.

'So I'm valuable, am I?' he asked.

'When dead – yes. When alive – that's questionable.'

Remus could have sworn he had just made Severus Snape smile for a fraction of a second.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi again! I hope this story is chugging along at an okay pace. I tend to love suspense and developing some kind of a relationship between the characters first, instead of just throwing them together and telling them to 'Do it'! Anywho, here's Chapter 6. Hope you like.**

**And a huge thank you again for the reviews – They really brighten up my day!**

**Disclaimer: Eeeh, see previous chapters.**

**.............................................................**

That night, Remus dreamt of Sirius.

He didn't question why he, once again, found himself in that eerie underground crypt, deep inside the Department of Mysteries – the site of Sirius' untimely death just a month before. Nor had he questioned why his best mate of twenty-odd years was standing there with his back to him; but that was the strange nature of dreams, after all.

'Enjoying yourself?' Sirius' voice echoed.

The words sounded hollow and emotionless – not to mention, nothing like Sirius at all. It was ridiculous to think that a situation so implausible could actually have seemed so real in Remus' mind. But he found himself taken in by it all, consumed by the need to speak to Sirius and see his face again.

Although Sirius' question had been terribly vague, Remus knew exactly what he was getting at.

'It's beyond my control, Padfoot.' he replied firmly, staring at Sirius' back - willing the man to just turn around and face him. Alas, he didn't.

'You can leave. Tomorrow.'

'You know I can't do that,' Remus sighed, causing a steamy fog to emanate from his mouth and vanish into the ice-cold air of his surroundings, 'I can barely stand on my own two feet - '

'All you have to do is apparate to the Burrow and be rid of him,' Sirius interrupted, his voice growing impatient, 'Why not stay there instead? You saw what Molly wrote in the letter.'

'It's – It's not that simple, Sirius.'

There was a pause, before the animagus suddenly swivelled around to reveal a face that was horribly mangled, like a decomposed corpse.

'I understand now,' Sirius hissed through rotting teeth, 'You _like_ it.'

Remus awoke with a furious gasp for air. His chest felt tight, as though an invisible force were straining across it, squeezing him to breaking point. He sat up on the creaking mattress, breaths coming in short, sharp pants, as his eyes cut through the ink-black darkness of the bedroom. He raised a hand to his face. The sweat was real, as were the shakes; he was definitely awake. And he was going to keep it that way.

**.............................................**

A glance at the clock on the bedside table had told Remus it was 3am, yet although the night – or rather, the morning – was still young, the need to sleep had completely evaporated. He stretched carefully so as not to aggravate his fractured bones, but noticed that the pain had all but disappeared. Now, the pain had been replaced by a mere dull throb in the tender areas. And how welcome that dull throb was.

Before falling off to sleep after Fenrir Greyback's unwelcome visit, Remus had had a blue potion thrust into his hand.

'The pain will be excruciating,' Snape had told him, pointing at Remus' stomach - and all without a trace of a smirk. It was almost admirable.

Then, reaching into his pocket, Snape revealed a small vial of silvery liquid which he also handed to Remus.

'But this will ensure that you sleep through the worst of it.'

Snape had been right, of course. Remus had slipped into a deep sleep less than a minute after downing both concoctions, and had slept a good seven hours or so, during which he hadn't felt a solitary thing. His stomach was tingling now, sure, but it wasn't all that unpleasant, and was a major improvement from the state he had been in the day before.

He knew he shouldn't, considering the explicit warning he had received from Snape, but Remus pulled back the sheets and slid out of bed. After putting on his trousers and vest, he padded barefoot towards the door and inched it open, ever so slowly; waking Snape was the very last thing he wanted to do just then. Deciding to head towards the kitchen for a glass of water, he felt his way forward through the darkness, coming into contact with light switches and wooden bannisters as he went.

A faint glow of moonlight teetered through the kitchen window, making it far easier for Remus to work his way around. Within seconds, his hand had fallen upon a mug – one of only two – in an overhead cupboard, before moving towards the tap to fill it. Through the window facing him, he curiously scanned the area at the back of the house. He was reluctant to label it a garden, simply because it largely consisted of bare patches of earth with small tufts of grass in between. Strewn across it were numerous shards of broken glass bottles, along with the solitary head of a baby doll. Then, as the surrounding cement wall came into focus, Remus leaned forward, squinting to make out the word 'FREAK' spray-painted across it in large, red letters

With a stab of guilt, Remus cast his mind back to the Marauder days when James and Sirius would use that exact word to spit in Snape's direction, along with a myriad of other insults. It seemed that even in adulthood, the man was doomed to be the subject of childish ridicule. Whether it actually got to him or not anymore was a different matter - though Remus highly doubted it.

He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation of the water as it washed over his tongue and trickled down his throat in a cool wave, perfectly quenching the thirst that the potions had built up over the past few hours.

Then casting his gaze over the kitchen, Remus observed that the furnishings were, predictably, kept to a bare minimum. With a look to the far corner of the room, he noticed a door - leading into the sitting room, he guessed – that had been left slightly ajar. A warm glow emanated dimly from the other side, compelling Remus to investigate. Could it be possible that Snape was still awake at this late hour? It was hardly a far-fetched possibility; he had always struck Remus as the type to suffer from insomnia.

He reached the door, mug of water still in hand, and gently pushed it open to reveal the source of the light. Casting imposing shadows onto the walls of the sitting room was the fireplace, still weakly illuminated with the remnants of dying embers.

And slumped on the couch, in front of the fireplace, was Snape. Sleeping.

Lupin stood there in the doorway, hand frozen midway before he had gotten the chance to bring the mug to his lips.

Unable to help himself, he found his eyes drifting over Snape's body from top to bottom - something which had been nigh impossible to do up until then. The man was still mostly clothed, but his usual black frock was now absent. In it's place was a simple white shirt, buttoned down to where his arms criss-crossed over his torso, revealing just a glimpse of a lean chest – certainly the most flesh Remus had seen Snape reveal in all the years they had known eachother. Remus' eyes lowered. Snape's right leg was bent to form an upside-down V, while the other rested lengthways across the couch; a position which caused the limbs to appear long and elegant.

But most surprisingly, that pallid, sickly appearance which always seemed to linger on Snape's face was now nowhere to be seen, and instead, a soft flush of colour tinged across the high, angular cheekbones. He looked... healthy.

Remus tilted his head to the side, and the left corner of his mouth began to twitch upwards. It was, admittedly, a pleasant image – cute almost, right down to the tips of Snape's sock-less toes. And he knew why that was; there was no scowl. No frown or glare, or pursed lips struggling to hold back a sarcastic remark. He -

'If you continue to stare like that, I'll gladly be taking Greyback up on his offer.'

Snape eyes had suddenly shot open, darting to glare in Remus' direction.

'Oh! You're awake,' Remus spluttered, grimacing awkwardly on the spot, 'Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I couldn't get back to sleep.'

_Mortifying._

Snape rubbed his tired-looking eyes and swung his feet off the couch to rest them firmly on the ground. He was no doubt irritated that he had been discovered in such an unguarded, discomposed position.

'I was _not _asleep. That would have been impossible with you banging around the kitchen like a mountain troll.'

'That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?' Remus snorted.

'And you're blatantly disregarding my orders to remain in bed.'

Remus approached the nearby armchair and sank himself into it, all the while feeling Snape's eyes on him, warily following each movement. It had the effect of making one feel like a clumsy toddler precariously waddling around the family crystal, and threatening to tumble over and break it at any moment.

'Blatantly, yes,' Lupin replied cheerfully, 'I have this rather annoying habit of getting thirsty from time to time, you see.'

Snape's eyes blazed, but he was clearly too exhausted to attempt a sufficient come-back.

'Judging by that weak attempt at humour, it seems you've recovered considerably.'

A smile of surprise flashed across Remus' face with the realisation that Snape, in his own encrypted, round-about kind way, had just asked him how he was.

'Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you,' he responded, gazing down into his cup and absent-mindedly swishing it about in his hand. He stifled the smile, not wishing to spoil the moment - monumental as it had been - by aggravating the man.

Then, with another quick glance over at Snape, he quietly added:

'You've been very kind, Severus. I'm extremely grateful. More than I can say, actually.'

'We have discussed this already – ' Snape began indignantly, but stopped when Remus held up a hand to interrupt him.

'I know, I know,' chimed Remus, 'You've already said that you did this out of duty - but it still doesn't change the fact that you did it. And saved my life. Now, please just – just accept my thanks. It won't hurt.'

Snape sighed, regarding Remus with narrowed eyes as though unsure of his sincerity. However finally, after a silent few moments, he gave a small, stiff nod. Then resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed his clasped hands to his mouth and stared into the fireplace.

'I saw the piece of artwork that the muggles left on your wall. Are they usually that much of a nuisance?'

'It's nothing I haven't experienced before, Lupin. Much of which you were a witness to, in fact.'

Snape threw him a withering look at that, for which no explanation was needed. Remus knew exactly what he was referring to – something that Snape would apparently never allow him to forget. He sighed and took another sip of water.

'Do you, er, use the electricity at all in the house?' Remus enquired, deciding to ignore the previous topic for a more harmless one, 'Muggles really do come up with the most ingenious uses for it.'

Snape's brow furrowed, but he replied nonetheless.

'Yes.'

Remus nodded, encouraged by the fact that the Slytherin had responded civilly at least.

'I'm sure Arthur Weasley would be very interested to know what it's like to live in an actual muggle home,' Remus smiled, feeling the tension lifting slightly, 'The two of you could have a wonderful discussion.'

'Wonderful discussions are not my forte, Lupin. Clearly they aren't your's either.'

Remus was inherently shy – an annoying attribute he had always tried to conceal with short quips and a lot of questions – and it was quite frustrating that Snape had caught onto it.

'Well, I don't know about you,' he huffed, 'But I don't fancy sitting here in total silence.'

Snape inclined his head sideways to regard Remus for a moment, before resting back into the couch with a sneer.

'Why sit here at all?' came that deep baritone – a voice that might almost sound delicious if it weren't constantly seeped in sarcasm and disdain.

Remus was at a loss. It was certainly a good question; why _was_ he sitting there? Why had he ventured where he obviously was not welcome?

'I - ' he blinked, frowning, 'I really have no idea.'

He rose from the armchair, a frown still lingering on his face, and headed in the direction of the door.

'I'm sorry to have barged in on you like this.' Remus continued quietly, 'I suppose I'll see you in the morning.'

His hand had just about reached the door knob when a voice from behind stopped him in his tracks.

'The nightmares are an unfortunate side-effect of the sleeping draft.'

Startled, Remus looked around, curious to hear more.

'The dreams it induces can be jarringly realistic,' Snape went on, watching Remus closely, 'Depending on an individual's mindset at the time of taking it, they may be unnaturally euphoric or positively dismal. I assume - considering recent events - that you fall into the latter category.'

Remus' frown lines deepened as his eyes fell to the floor. The man had just read him like one of his potions manuals.

'Erm, yes.' he mumbled 'The latter.'

'Try sleeping on your stomach.' Snape added, now staring at his hands, 'For some reason, that seems to counteract the effects.'

Nodding, Remus then left the sitting room and returned back to the bedroom to enjoy, what would turn out to be, a mercifully dreamless slumber.

**..................................................**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again everyone! I'm so so sorry that this update took longer than the others. I was drowning in assignments, among other things. This may not be the longest chapter but I wanted to get it out there all the same - just to prove that I hadn't forgotten about Tangerine altogether.**

**A huge thank you again for the reviews and messages! Hope you like this, and I'll be back with another update as soon as I can! X**

**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**

**...**

'Good Morning.'

Rubbing the sleep from just-open, amber eyes and stifling an early-morning yawn, Remus traipsed into the kitchen of Spinner's End with his sights firmly set on a steaming mug of tea. He felt remarkably well-rested following his potion induced sleep, not to mention the fact that there wasn't even the slightest tinge of pain to note from anywhere on his body. He felt great, in fact, for the most part. But there had been one thing bothering Remus since waking that morning. A nagging feeling, or a dark cloud of sorts; his full recovery meant that there was absolutely no reason why he should remain in Snape's home any longer.

It was foolish really, the fact that it dampened his spirits so. What annoyed Remus the most, however, was the fact that he was unable to pinpoint why exactly the thought of leaving was an unhappy one. Perhaps Snape's company had been some twisted kind of tonic for the deep-seated loneliness Remus had suffered since Sirius' death?

Or could it be that for the first time in his life, tucked away in Merlin knows where, Remus felt truly safe from harm? Safe from frightened, expectant eyes looking to him for positivity and a smile? He hadn't quite realised how exhausting the act – and it had been just that - had been until he was finally free to drop the facade; a facade which certainly wasn't necessary in Snape's company. Constantly, _naively_ looking on the bright side and believing that good would eventually conquer all had been mantras of sorts to Remus for most of his life. But lately, looking on the bright side had morphed into something distinctly different. Now Remus was desperately seeking that enigmatic bright side - Grasping out blindly into the impenetrable darkness for it; for something he doubted was really there.

There was something so fearless about Snape – so admirably unshakeable. He was the very definition of an enigma, flitting back and forth between the camps of good and evil without so much as a batted eyelid, it seemed. But the night before had triggered something in Remus. From the simple image of a barefooted Snape dozing peacefully across the couch, came the realisation that he was, in spite of everything, still human. He may be able to hide it extremely well beneath layers of black robes and a carefully calculated scowl, but Snape - like everyone else in the world - had fears and regrets, a favourite book and meal, someone he looked up to. Now that Remus had seen a tantalising glimpse, tiny as it had been, of Snape's humanity, the idea of finding out more was admittedly an appealing one.

He could certainly use a friend like Snape. Remus guessed that they might even be oddly suited in a way. Both weren't exactly conversationalists and clearly, from the stacks of bursting bookshelves that lined the walls of Spinner's End, Snape too was an avid reader. Instead of the current hot topic of conversation which grated on Remus so (the War), he and Snape could talk endlessly about books and nothing more. It would be like a laughing baby at a funeral: a break in the tension, and a very welcome distraction.

Once through the kitchen door, Remus' nostrils immediately began to sting with a strong odour that thickly tainted the air. He scrunched up his nose and scanned his surroundings for the source of the smell, before his gaze soon fell on the hunched-over figure of Severus Snape. He was fully dressed in his usual uniform of black, and his focus seemed to be directed downwards at the small kitchen table beneath him, apparently too engrossed in what he was doing to utter a greeting. Remus stood blankly for a moment, staring at his back. Snape looked on-edge.

From the travelling cloak which had been discarded on a rickety kitchen chair, Remus deduced that Snape had already ventured beyond Spinner's End that morning.

'Cooking me a goodbye breakfast, Severus?' Remus chimed somewhat cautiously as he took a step closer, 'That wasn't necessary.'

Snape's shoulders rose and fell at that, illustrating an exasperated sigh for Remus' benefit.

'This is _not_ a hotel,' came a distracted mumble.

Curious as to what was grabbing Snape's attention so, Remus approached his side and peered over Snape's shoulder to find a bubbling cauldron of thick, green gloop positioned on the table.

'That looks... quite... appetizing.'

Remus' gaze drifted upwards. Long, black clumps of hair had fallen over Snape's face, obscuring it for the most part. Yet something still struck Remus as being off about the man. He looked troubled. His eyes seemed different; glazed-over and void of even the most rudimentary of Snape's emotions: disdain.

'Must you hover around like that, Lupin?' the Potions Master snapped, refusing to tear his gaze away from the cauldron, 'Surely you can see that I'm unable to lavish you with attention at the moment.'

'Not to worry, Severus,' Remus replied, making his way towards a cupboard, 'I'll be out from under your feet as soon as I manage to find your teabags and make myself a quick brew.'

'_Not_ so fast,' came Snape's voice, careful and calculating in his execution.

With those three simple words, Remus suddenly faltered and turned on his heel.

'Sorry?'

'You're not going anywhere,' Snape stated matter-of-factly, 'Dumbledore has requested we carry out an urgent task.'

Finally wrenching his attention away from the bubbling potion, Snape twisted around to fix a glare on Lupin before continuing.

'Only when it is completed will you be able to crawl back to wherever it is you came from.'

Remus' eyes narrowed.

'Well, go on then, don't keep me in suspense.'

'It is a delicate situation; one that I would have preferred to handle _alone_, but Dumbledore typically had other ideas.'

Then, after again turning his back on Remus for a moment, Snape approached him and held out a vial of the green substance.

Remus sighed, dragging a hand through his straggly, auburn hair, 'Another potion.'

'Polyjuice which you are to drink on the Headmaster's orders - to prevent any chance of recognition.'

Remus regarded Snape before grudgingly accepting the vial.

'Our mission is to go to Mannix and Sons on Knockturn Alley, where I will meet with a man named Oran Argerich - a Lithuanian dealer whose speciality is in the black market. Argerich's customers are dotted all over the country, and his ability to get his hands on the most restricted and dangerous of goods has made him quite popular, particularly around Nocturn Alley.'

'Argerich... The name sounds familiar,' Remus mumbled, brushing a hand over his stubbled chin, 'I'm almost certain he had some ties with the Blacks. He must be a piece of work if that's the case.'

Snape gave a small nod.

'The Dark Lord has called upon Argerich to gather together an extremely rare variety of seeds, which I am to collect from him today. These seeds, following a mere month, form a plant from which blossoms a deceptively pleasant and sweet-smelling flower. However, when touched, this flower stings the skin and goes on to infect the blood. Within an hour, it's victim is plunged into a permanent state of confusion and disorientation – much like the Longbottoms.'

'Merlin,' exhaled Remus, 'That's horrific. Where exactly is Voldemort planning to plant these seeds?'

Snape winced irritably at the name, but went on nonetheless.

'He intends to place them in areas with a high population of muggles, such as their schools, hospitals, office buildings - '

'But I was under the impression that this Argerich character was merely a crook of some kind - not a murderer. I mean, does he realise what these seeds are intended for?'

'The Blacks never settled for anything less than die-hard Death Eaters within their social circle. Surely you of all people would know that?' Snape's face darkened visibly as the mention of his nemesis' family name hissed from his mouth. He paused, either for dramatic effect or in anticipation of a come-back, only to watch Remus simply fold his arms.

'This man has blood on his hands stretching back almost thirty years,' Snape went on, a shadow of a scowl still lingering across his pale visage, 'Having had dealings with him in the past, I can tell you that he is totally lacking in the conscience department and won't think twice about performing an Unforgivable on us both should he smell a rat. With that in mind, you are strictly forbidden from doing anything predictably _Gryffindor_ in nature once we find ourselves in his company.'

A frown began to work across Remus' brow as a troubling notion entered his mind.

'You mean to say that you're... one of his regular customers?'

Snape regarded Remus for a moment, the expression on his face totally inscrutable. With his hands balling into fists, Snape then turned his back on the werewolf, returning his attention, as before, to the bubbling cauldron.

'I managed to procure a strand of hair from a particularly threatening-looking muggle while in London this morning,' Snape continued, 'As well as a new set of robes that I gauged would fit his frame. Once you drink the Polyjuice and morph into said muggle, we shall discuss our plan of action for this afternoon.'

Remus nodded to no one in particular. Perhaps it was for himself. A nod of understanding - of acceptance that Snape had secrets he had no intention of disclosing. The man had a past which made his present-day self impossibly complicated, a past which made him human in the worst possible way. A human which made mistakes so grave that they endangered lives and quite possibly ended them. A human which Remus wasn't quite sure he wanted to get close to anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everyone! I've had the bare plot of this chapter outlined for a while now, but only managed to put the finishing touches on it recently. Apologies again for taking so long. X**

* * *

Remus dropped his head and stared dubiously into the narrow glass container that he held within a clammy-handed grasp. The polyjuice potion was churning, emitting flat * plops * as heavy bubbles burst every so often along it's seaweed-green surface. He gulped and swished the tube about in his hand - unsurprised to see that the dense, tar-like substance barely moved with the motion.

Sighing, Lupin raised his head to glance through the crack in his bedroom door. Snape could be seen just meters away in the kitchen, carefully plucking narrow, glass vials from a wooden box on the counter, and placing them into one of the many pockets of his travelling coat.

For a reason that was unknown even to himself, Remus quite enjoyed seeing Snape like that. It was strangely calming to know that someone other than himself was there to take the reigns, without so much as a word of protest. Remus imagined how stressful it must be for Snape to have the well-being of the wizarding world - quite literally - resting on his shoulders, depending on him to pull through. There was no room for mistakes nowadays; and luckily, Severus Snape didn't make them anymore. No, he had learnt a life lesson from the worst mistake he had ever made all those years ago; when he had allowed himself to be sucked in by the dark creed of the House of Slytherin - by his classmates and so-called friends. And Remus hated Snape for it.

He hated that Snape, such a remarkably intelligent man, had fallen victim to the pathetic Slytherin – Death Eater stereotype. He hated that Snape's need as a young man to be liked and respected by his peers had totally eclipsed his common-sense and decency. He hated that Snape had felt that the life of a Death Eater was what someone like him was destined for; or rather, what he was condemned to.

But most of all, he hated that Severus now had to pay for that mistake for the rest of his life. The knowledge that he had endangered - and quite possibly ended - innocent lives during his time as a follower of Voldemort was not something that would fade with time. That knowledge, like the hideous mark on his wrist as a reminder, would remain with Snape forever.

The Potions Master's movements were marked with a distinct urgency, yet they were steady and unwavering, as always. Morning sun flooded the kitchen through a window at Snape's side, silhouetting his hunched profile and rendering his figure a simple black shape amidst the light. But just for a moment, his concentration seemed to falter, and his shoulders slumped downwards. Remus frowned, continuing to look on as the Slytherin then brought a hand up to his face and ran a hand of long, thin fingers across his forehead. _'Hold it together, Severus,' _Lupin breathed.

Remus' eyes fell once again to the potion in his hand, and he nodded resolutely. Without another moment's hesitation, he rose the vial to his lips and knocked it back, not leaving one trace of it behind.

Even whilst still making it's treacherous way down Lupin's throat, the polyjuice potion's effects were almost immediate. His stomach lurched angrily in protest, and he quickly slammed the bedroom door shut, preferring his violent gagging to go unheard. He moved to a small mirror which hung in the corner of the room, and peered onwards. '_Christ, I look ancient_.'

To his slight shame, Remus began to wonder if the muggle he was about to morph into would be even marginally good-looking. Though at this stage he guessed that almost anything would be preferable to his current appearance. _Beggars can't be choosers..._

There they were; speckles of grey hair, wrinkles and dark circles screaming back at him – all soon to be replaced by something rather different within a matter of seconds.

Gag. Gag. Gag. _Shudder_.

Then it began. Every inch of his skin started to bubble and change texture. Dark hair spouted from each pore. Bones elongated themselves ever so slightly, and Remus' chest became broader and broader until finally, the buttons of his shirt popped from the strain and cascaded to the ground at his feet.

And just as soon as it had begun, it was over.

Finally, bringing his head upwards, Remus directed his gaze into the mirror. Staring back at him was the harsh – yet not wholly unpleasant – face of a man about his own age, with dark brown, shaggy hair that settled just below the ears. His eyes were a piercing, icy-blue, rimmed by dark circles that were nearly akin to the circles he had sported himself not so long ago. Protruding at the centre of his face was a large, hooked nose – crooked at the bridge, where Remus assumed it had been broken sometime in the past. The nose had the effect of almost obscuring his thin-lipped mouth, and made it look terribly insignificant in comparison. His sharp jaw was coated with a sparse stubble, giving him a somewhat rough appearance – although he guessed that was the intended look.

The muggle was only slightly taller than an already-statuesque Lupin, yet his build was chunkier and more muscular. Seeing that his trousers were also straining against the new figure beneath, and wishing to spare as many clothes as he could, Remus dragged them off, along with his underwear, and placed them neatly on the bed. Being nude was becoming surprisingly common-place for him lately.

Then, cracking open the bedroom door once again, Remus called out to Snape.

'Severus, I'm going to need those clothes. Could you bring them in, if you don't mind?'

No answer came in reply - but Remus had come not to expect them at Spinner's End.

Soon enough, the sound of footsteps could be heard clunking through the corridor, until finally, Snape came breezing through the door, clothes in hand.

His eyes quickly scanned Remus up and down, narrowed, and then dropped to the floorboards.

'Oh, for Merlin's - ' he spat, refusing to bring his gaze up from his feet.

A grin spread across Lupin's lips.

'Severus,' he chortled, stepping towards the man, 'Surely seeing me naked isn't an issue anymore?'

Snape took a quick step backwards in response.

'Seeing you in the nude is certainly _not_ a big deal, Lupin,' replied Snape with all the mockery that he could muster, 'But this is a totally different situation. Now if you've quite finished parading yourself about, will you just take these clothes so we can begin our task?'

But without waiting for Remus to do just that, Snape simply deigned to fling the garments onto the bed before striding back out the way he came.

* * *

A short time later, the two men were to be found on the cobble-stoned street outside, making their way down the narrow alley at a brisk pace. It was the first time since the attack that Remus had ventured outside, and although the weather left much to be desired, the feeling was nothing short of glorious. He had always considered himself an outdoors type at heart, and really, nothing could beat the sensation of that fresh, autumn breeze on his cheeks. He took a deep breath inwards, savouring it for a moment before exhaling with a contented sigh, and then looked to his companion.

'So where is this forest that we're to apparate from then?'

A cloud of steam billowed from Remus' mouth as he spoke, before it quickly dissipated into the damp, chilly air surrounding them. Lingering within the housing estate's network of alleyways was a dense fog, and although it was nearing midday, the early-morning dew that delicately cobwebbed every surface was showing no sign of drying up.

The two were intending on apparating to Nocturne Alley, a goal that could only be achieved by leaving Spinner's End and heading to the nearest secluded spot. The reason being that Snape's house was overwhelmed with apparition wards and any number of other security features which prevented a person from coming and going as they pleased.

Snape wearily pulled the scarf tighter around his neck, and dove his gloved-hands into his jacket pocket.

'It runs parallel to this alleyway,' he replied, nodding to his left, 'Past this row of houses. With any luck, it will be minus the usual drug abuser or two this morning, given the cold weather.'

Remus chuckled. It tickled him to know that Snape had to deal with issues so unwizard-like on a daily basis. Or at least, until Hogwarts re-opened the following month. Their first-hand experience with muggles also meant that they had one more thing in common. Given the fact that he was practically unemployable in the wizarding world, Remus had been forced to seek employment with his non-wizarding counterparts over the years. Waiting tables, sweeping up hair at a barbers, changing beds and doing laundry in a hospital, stocking shelves, deliveries, and a rather unsuccessful stint as a telemarketer – just a handful of jobs that Remus had dipped his toe into. Not to mention the fact that he had muggle relatives whom he had crossed paths with a couple of times as a child.

'It's nice to see that you've integrated well with your neighbours.'

'I shudder to think what integration with these people would mean,' Snape scoffed, 'Contracting a disease, no doubt.'

'Oh, nothing you can't handle I'm sure, Severus.' Remus grinned.

Then, bowing his head against the oncoming breeze, he wrapped his sizeable arms firmly about himself with an audible shiver.

'This fellow must be up every morning at the crack of dawn to lift weights,' sighed Remus, glancing down at his biceps, 'Merlin, he makes people like me look bloody awful in comparison.'

'I really have no desire to hear about your poor body image, Lupin.'

Remus snorted and continued on, 'That said, I wouldn't exactly consider him my type.'

Remus realised at once, as Snape's head snapped away to focus in the opposite direction, that he had taken the discussion entirely too far.

* * *

'I cannot stress enough that Argerich is, by nature, a very shrewd man, and does not take kindly to deception of any kind.' Snape uttered under his breath, carefully fixing his gaze on Lupin.

Nocturne Alley was positively suffocating; the towering buildings that loomed overhead, the confined space of the entire street, miserable characters crouching within every dark corner, staring frantically at passers-by with soulless, yellow eyes.

The two men had finally reached their destination, and now stood at the door of Mannix and Sons, without a doubt the most unpleasant public house in all of England - if one was to go by it's reputation.

Lupin remembered the stories Sirius had told him years ago about the place. Indeed, teenage boys were prone to exaggerating stories in an attempt to come off as dangerous and experienced in the ways of the world, but Lupin could tell that Sirius' tales of Mannix and Sons were different. He could tell that Sirius did not divulge the stories to anyone but him and James, because he quite simply did not want anyone else to know. Because he was ashamed.

Sirius had relayed the story of how his parents dragged him to the infamous Death Eater watering hole as a child and introduced him to their despicable comrades. The boy had blushed whilst recounting to Remus the ways in which his father had lauded his hapless son, time and time again, as a fine Death Eater in the making; a true Black. How Remus had sympathised with Sirius for the shocking upbringing he had suffered. How he had wished to steal his friend away from the Black Mansion and show him how a real family operated – without hate as their family motto, and with unconditional love, whether they made a name for themselves or not.

'Don't worry, Severus,' Remus sighed warily, 'I'll do my best to keep my explosive temper under wraps. Now can we just go inside, for Pete's sake?'

'If you deviate from the plan at all, then you are completely and utterly on your own,' Snape went on as they advanced closer towards the door, 'I won't be held accountable for any stupidity on your part.'

'Yes, that's A-okay.'

Snape threw a black-eyed glare Remus' way and stepped inside.

The smell as they crossed the threshold and entered the pub was heavy with alcohol and tobacco, and the air was tainted with a thick, almost impenetrable, fog of smoke. As he followed Snape's lead and waited for his eyes to adjust, Lupin took a moment to scan his whereabouts. The place was impossibly dreary, and - although it was only midday – inky-black shadows appeared to bounce across the walls and surfaces, as though engaged in some sort of macabre dance.

Dotted sparsely about the pub, sitting at the small tables, were hunched-over figures – some muttering into their drinks, some saying nothing at all – yet none of whom paid an ounce of attention to the new arrivals.

As the two moved closer towards the bar, Remus began to make out the profile of a skeletal creature straight ahead; the creature whom, Remus guessed, was none other than Oran Argerich.

Snape strode right up to Argerich and, instead of greeting him, simply caught the barman's attention and ordered a drink. Remus did the same and sat atop a nearby bar stool.

He peered across at the man. Argerich's eyes were bloodshot and one lid drooped down lazily, almost obscuring his left pupil. Angry, purple blotches tainted the skin around his eye sockets; skin which otherwise looked discoloured by tobacco and a deficiency in any number of vitamins. His lips were thin and slanted into an incessant scowl, and he looked much older than his fifty or so years.

When Snape's and Remus' drinks had finally arrived, Severus turned to Argerich.

'I believe you have something to hand over?'

There was a moment's silence.

'Is that so?'

'Let's not drag this out, Argerich,' Snape sighed, 'The Dark Lord does not applaud slackers.'

The man snorted bitterly before taking a long gulp of his drink.

'And we all know you positively live for the Dark Lord's praise, eh Snape?' Argerich mocked in a thick, Eastern European accent.

'Your jealousy is still eating you alive I see. Perhaps if you bathed even once, the Dark Lord might consider viewing you as more than a mere delivery boy.'

Argerich put down his glass and rose his head to seethe at the Potions Master.

'Don't push it,' Argerich growled, 'You may be one of his favourites, but that doesn't mean you're better than the rest of us. All it means is that you follow him about like an adoring little child, kissing his feet and tending to his every beck and call.'

A vein throbbed along Severus' temple while Argerich shifted on his stool to give Lupin the once-over.

'Who's this?'

'None of your concern,' Severus snapped, 'I have the amount you asked for - now if you wouldn't mind handing over the package.'

'Alright, alright,' assuaged Argerich, all the while holding a narrow-eyed glare on Snape's uneasy companion.

Remus – suddenly realising he had been tapping his fingers a little too restlessly along the countertop – quickly balled his sizeable hands into tight fists and stared right back at the wretch.

This was a character whom the Blacks would probably have preferred to keep in the background, out of sight.

Orion and Walburga Black favoured good-looks and fine robes within their social network – both attributes that could never be linked to Oran Argerich – and considered those who didn't conform to that image either lazy or descended from bad blood. Remus was glad that Sirius had been an angelic-looking child before growing into a very handsome young man; otherwise, his upbringing could have been that much more difficult.

Argerich slipped his hand into a chest pocket within the inner lining of his ancient-looking coat, and pulled out a grubby old pouch. Remus couldn't help but be taken aback by how small the pouch was. It was strange how such an insignificant little parcel could wreak so much havoc and devastation on the world - or at least, on Britain.

'I suppose you've heard about Black?' the Lithuanian suddenly grunted, holding out the pouch in Snape's direction.

Remus' stomach lurched. He had promised Severus that he would keep his mouth completely and utterly shut throughout the duration of their stint in the pub; but that was before the topic of his best friend's death was brought up.

'Yes,' Snape answered stiffly, as he took the pouch from Argerich's grasp and carefully placed it in his own coat pocket.

'One less person to poison the wizarding world with muggle-loving propaganda.'

'Indeed.'

'You seem awfully indifferent about it,' scrutinised Argerich, 'Black was a snivelling waste of space, who turned his back on his noble heritage. You should be rejoicing, Snape. I know how much you hated the man.'

Snape's eyes flicked in Remus' direction for just a moment - as though expecting a knee-jerk reaction - before returning his attention back to Argerich.

'An understatement, Argerich,' Snape replied, his face darkening in unison, 'He was a veritable plague on the Wizarding world.'

Remus glared into his goblet of firewhiskey, clenching his jaw in a monumental effort to hold his tongue. He was sick to his stomach. Snape had finally found a way of slandering his best friend's memory while, most importantly, ensuring that Remus heard every bit of it.

'And what a pathetic way to go out,' Argerich went on.

'Yes,' Snape agreed with his mouth curling slightly upwards, 'How ironic that such an attention-seeking narcissist should have such a bland death.'

Argerich nodded, clearly relishing the mere thought of it, 'Tripping over himself and falling through a veil of some sort!'

Then, throwing back his head, Argerich gave a gleeful cackle. The laughter, however, soon caused a bout of harsh, wheezy coughs and Argerich crouched over in violent convulsions.

Snape quickly looked to his side where Remus was seated, a furious glower etching the lines of his new-found face as he watched Argerich.

Soon, the dealer had regained his composure, and promptly switched his attention back to more serious matters.

'My payment,' he said with his mouth widening into a gap-toothed sneer, 'Where is it?'

'Patience,' Snape told him, taking a cloth bag from another pocket and placing it in Argerich's outstretched palm.

Closing his fingers around it, Argerich then untied the opening of the bag and peered inside.

As he did so, Snape took a nonchalant step backwards to position himself by Lupin's side. Shortly after, Remus could feel a grip forming around his elbow, and he readied himself for the oncoming scuffle.

Perfectly according to plan, Argerich then reached into the bag - intending to count the money - and, as though in slow motion, his hand finally made contact with the Galleons at the base of the bag. Little did Oran Argerich know that the coins were, in fact, portkeys, and before the Lithuanian even knew what had happened, he had vanished from the pub without a trace.

'Prepare yourself,' Snape hissed under his breath, tightening his grip on Remus's elbow, before they too followed in Argerich's path, and disappeared with a *pop*.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! This chapter isn't as long as I'd like, but I wanted to upload it anyway and not worry about the fact that I haven't updated in a long time. I hope you enjoy, and Happy New Year to all of you! Happy belated Xmas to you as well, I hope you had a good one. X**

**Disclaimer: This slashy situation is merely a product of my over-active imagination. All the HP characters, settings and general things belong to the JKR.**

* * *

Upon a craggy hilltop in Galway, Ireland, a lone horse stopped in his tracks during a lazy afternoon canter. A figure had just appeared in the distance, crying out in surprise and stumbling over itself as it gazed wide-eyed over it's new surroundings.

The horse jerked a tuft of grass from the earth, staring onwards as it chewed rhythmically on the strands of green. Ireland's autumn had been bitterly cold so far that year - particularly along the west coast of the country. Surely the human wasn't planning on _staying _there? He'd undoubtedly freeze to death.

Almost immediately afterwards came the sharp sound of a cracking whip, promptly followed by the appearance of two more human shapes.

'_Petrificus Totalus!_' cried out a figure in black amidst the flurry, before a curious flash of white enveloped the trio. Jaw slackening before the chewing stopped altogether, the horse watched on as one of the figures – the first human to have appeared – drop stiffly to the ground.

This commotion was certainly more than the horse could handle at his age, and he trotted away in search of more serene pastures.

Meanwhile, just a few meters away, Remus breathed out a wearisome sigh. He folded his arms in an attempt to conserve heat, but it was useless. There was an unmerciful Atlantic breeze coming in from the coast, a breeze that felt like vicious bites along his skin. Trust Snape to choose a location with such a severe climate.

Lupin looked ahead to the Potions Master. He appeared calm and absolutely resolute, fixing a black-eyed stare on Argerich's spread-eagled body which now lay motionless at his feet.

After removing the leather glove from his left hand – his wand hand – Snape positioned the tip of his weapon directly against Argerich's forehead. With his knuckles whitening, the Slytherin then parted his lips and uttered the incantation that would undoubtedly be Argerich's downfall.

'_Obliviate._'

Argerich's reaction to the memory charm was immediate. His facial expression – already somewhat blank from the recent stunning spell – took on a more severe and dazed appearance, and his eyelids fluttered closed. It was then that Snape brought his plan into it's final stage.

'You were unable to find even one Zygmus seed for the Dark Lord and concluded that they are extinct, ' he spoke into Argerich's ear, 'Because you are in dire financial straits, you instead handed over a bag of duds to Severus Snape, took your payment, and fled back to Lithuania where you plan to go into hiding.'

Then, after lowering his wand from Argerich's temple, Snape straightened his back, quickly looked to Remus before vanishing from the spot and taking Argerich with him.

Remus' brow furrowed. He dropped his head to stare downwards, watching his feet as they kicked at the grassy earth.

Not more than two minutes had passed before the familiar noise heralding an apparation resonated once again in his ears. Snape had returned, alone. Remus wrenched his gaze upwards to meet the black eyes.

'Everything ended happily ever after then.'

Severus scrutinized him with narrowed eyes and a slight inclination of his head.

'Sympathising with the enemy, Lupin?'

A curtain of raven hair fell forward with the movement, obscuring one eye and leaving the other to stare accusingly, perusing Remus' thoughts like a metal detector in a minefield. Unable to help himself, Lupin turned his back on the Slytherin and looked out to the coast where monstrous waves were thrashing violently against the rocks.

'Not sympathising,' he said quietly, 'But not unfeeling either.'

'If you have something to say then let's not dance about the matter as you tend to do.'

Remus turned to face Snape again, resolute that he would speak his mind and not allow his opinion to be thrown casually by the wayside.

'Do you do things like this,' Remus paused, stepping forward, 'Every day?'

Snape's face darkened. 'Why do you ask?'

'You've effectively just brainwashed a man and sent him on his way; all with the knowledge that he'll soon be tracked down and killed in the most gruesome way possible. And it's all your doing, Severus.'

'Your observational skills are second to none.'

Remus shook his head in disbelief.

'It's just a walk in the park to you, isn't it?' he demanded, gesturing around them with a outwards throw of his hand, 'All this.'

Snape's gaze drifted from Remus for a moment. Sighing impatiently, his focus soon fell on the fading shape of a horse in the distance as it ambled away. Then, looking back to Lupin, he sneered: 'I'm sure it's terribly insulting to your humanistic ideals, Lupin, but please spare me the attempt at a guilt trip.

'I'm not asking you to feel guilty, Severus! I'm asking you to acknowledge and feel and not be so bloody apathetic towards every awful thing that crosses your path!'

'You are impossibly naïve for a man of your age and experience Lupin. Argerich is the lowest form of life on this earth, and I will _not_ waste my time dwelling on how I've signed his death warrant.'

'No,' said Lupin, shaking his head dubiously, 'I'm not the naïve one here, Severus. You are; for convincing yourself that at the end of the day, none of this has any effect on you whatsoever. Only a person incapable of love wouldn't - '

'I knew you were an insufferable drip, Lupin,' Snape suddenly interrupted with a considerably raised voice, 'But _this_ is a step too far - even for you.'

The Potions Master's demeanour had quickly shifted from indifferent to utterly defensive in a matter of milliseconds, and Remus couldn't help but be taken aback. He had no idea his words would have such an effect on Snape, and he had to admit that it felt oddly satisfying.

'Careful, Severus, I'd hate to think I – of all people – had managed to ruffle your feathers.'

'Don't flatter yourself. The only people from your little circle of cronies who had the ability to do that are dead now, thankfully.'

Remus' stomach gave an unpleasant throb. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but stopped himself, and resigned to draw an unfamiliar hand across an equally as unfamiliar forehead.

'You just amaze me, Severus,' he croaked bitterly into the palm of his hand, 'I've made an effort with you after all you've done for me – I really have. I mean, you saved me from certain death, you dressed my wounds, gave me a place to stay and food to eat – everything an exceptionally kind, _good_ person would do for someone in need. Yet I find myself in complete disbelief at how utterly cold you can be towards that same person.'

Snape's jaw clenched as he seethed at the other man. Then, balling his gloved hands into tight fists that strained against the leather, he dove them his jacket pocket with all the aggression he could muster.

'If you want to be treated like a delicate piece of china,' he hissed, 'Then look no further than Molly Weasley. If you find the real world too harsh for your childish nature, then return to whichever rock you crawled out from under. I have told you time and time again – I do not _care_ for you as a friend or otherwise. You are an asset to the Order to me; no more and no less.'

'Oh, wake up, Severus!' Remus cried, 'You really think that I don't know how harsh the world is? I think you know that I'm more acquainted with the world than most, so don't talk to me about naivety. We're so alike, Severus, don't you realise that? We've both seen and experienced far more than we wanted, but _I've_ learned from it. I've _grown. _And you; you've just allowed it to make you cynical and bitter.'

For a moment, Severus allowed his eyes to squeeze shut at Remus' words. Not a sound could be heard except the rhythmic rolling and crashing of the waves nearby. Snape stepped towards Remus and scanned the Gryffindor's polyjuiced-face closely.

'I am _nothing_ like you, Lupin. ' he breathed, 'You think you've grown, but you'll tire of that cheerful mask you wear eventually - and you'll break. I, however, have learnt not to wear emotion of any kind on my sleeve. That would be akin to leaving a gaping wound open to infection. And you, Lupin, are that gaping wound. Yes, I _am _pessimistic, but it is the only logical mindset to have. I don't expect any good to come of the world or this life, so I'm never disappointed when things invariably get _worse_.'

Remus swallowed. Snape didn't intimidate him in the least. In fact, he pitied the man for his hopeless outlook on, well, _everything _- including himself. Lupin intended to respond - with what, he wasn't sure - but Snape wasn't finished, and he had left the harshest words, it seemed, till last.

'You realise that as much as you try to mould me into Black's image,' Snape went on, his glare not faltering for one second, 'You will _never_ be more than a casual acquaintance to me. You can't replace him.'

And as he voiced his final words to Remus, Lupin couldn't help but notice the corners of Snape's thin mouth begin to twitch faintly 'You can _never_ replace the dead.'

Remus' face fell at that – at the words that he found so difficult to comprehend. The finality of the statement struck him harder than any of Fenrir Greyback's bites or punches. Sirius – the one of a kind Sirius - was dead, never to come back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello again, dearests. Now that assignments can be pushed aside for a while, I hope that I can get back into the swing of all things Fan Fiction. This is just a short update, intended to assure you that I haven't abandoned the story entirely. I'll be back again with something longer, but in the meantime, I hope you'll accept this offering! X**

* * *

Dull streaks of light filtered downwards onto the forest floor through the thick cluster of branches overhead. Remus tipped his head back to gaze upward. The eyesight of the body he now inhibited was nowhere near as sharp as his own, and he squinted to make out the birds as they flitted from tree to tree, dark blurs lost in a flurry of wings.

Despite the odd beer can and discarded shoe, it was a rather peaceful, pleasant forest; something which Remus had failed to notice an hour before on the outward journey. His attention had been focused solely on Severus then, of course.

He took a moment to wonder how many times Snape had stood on this very spot, feeling tense, anxious, relieved, frightened, clasping his wrist as that searing patch of skin called him to his Lord. In the distance – originating from somewhere between the endless rows of houses - Remus could just about make out the sound of voices; teenagers joking amongst themselves, sprinkling their words with loud guffaws and shouts. He did not want to move. Specifically, he did not want to face the outside world. Not now. Not after the confrontation with Severus. The sheer force of the Potions Master's words was still raw in his chest and, more than anything, he was numb. The wound which he had fought tooth and nail to disguise had been cruelly wrenched open once again for all the world to see. Where before there had been tears – now there was nothing. He was too exhausted to cry, and had no darkened room to traipse to in which to do it.

No. He would return to the Weasley's and the Burrow, and deign to hide behind a crooked, uneven smile.

With a tingling sensation suddenly erupting beneath his skin, Remus realised there was no time to stall within the comfort of the forest. That tingle would soon evolve into rippling bubbles across the entire surface of his skin – Something which no muggle could see. He pulled the coat tighter around his body, tugging it's collar upwards in an effort to disguise his face somewhat, and hastily began to weave his way through the trees.

Unable to help himself, Remus found his thoughts drifting to the very man who had placed him in this unbearable state of mind; Severus. He had to admit that amidst his newfound and immense dislike for the Slytherin, Remus could not repress a deep concern for his welfare. After the Zygmus seeds had been destroyed in a flurry of flames and the two had exchanged their insults, both were forced to part ways. Snape had been summoned - no doubt to hand over the Zygmus seeds – and after checking that he had the bag of dud seeds to offer up to Voldemort, he apparated immediately, leaving behind nothing but the memory of a hateful glare.

'I'll be gone by the time you get back,' Remus had muttered through clenched teeth in the Slytherin's wake.

* * *

Remembering Severus' locking charms and spells to ward away muggles from his home, Remus pressed himself against the front door to Spinner's End and hissed the numerous counter-spells under his breath. The Polyjuice transformation was entering it's final stage, and keeping a grip on his wand – as well as concentrating on the wording – was proving difficult. Pausing for a break was not an option, however, with the voices of the muggle teenagers nearby acting as a reminder of that fact.

Finally, the faint click of a lock sounded and, taking his cue, Lupin pushed open the door and disappeared inside with a wearisome look over his shoulder.

* * *

No more than fifteen minutes later, Remus – thin, scarred, tattered, brown/grey-haired Remus – could be found in the room that had been his bedroom for the duration of his stay in Snape's home. He peeled the now oversized, sweat-drenched shirt over his head and stepped out of his trousers and boots, before setting them aside and casting his eyes about the room for his own clothes. He soon located them on the window sill and approached it to discover that his trousers, shirt, jacket and even his socks had been neatly folded. Furthermore, his shoes - which he hadn't seen once since he first awoke in Spinner's End – had been set out side-by-side on the floor by the base of the bed.

He stared blankly at the scruffy pair of leather shoes for a moment, before turning his head to look at the folded clothing.

* * *

Not wishing to stay in the house any longer than was necessary, Remus quickly made contact with Molly Weasley through Snape's fireplace and the floo network, and asked if the invitation to stay at the Burrow was still open. Even when encased in fire and smouldering embers, Mrs. Weasley's plump, laughter-lined face was a comfort to Remus, and if it were at all possible, he would have reached out to her for a hug. Following an enthusiastic 'Oh, of course, dear!' and a stream of questions enquiring about Remus' welfare and Snape's behaviour over the past few days, the chat was drawn to a close.

Sensing his voice about to crack as he said his goodbye to Molly, Remus remained in position for a moment to compose himself, feeling the cool chill from the wooden floor rise upwards from where he knelt on his knees.

He rose stiffly to his feet and headed in the direction of the bathroom where he intended to splash some sobering, ice-cold water on his face.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone. You can probably just assume by now that I'm always going to be very sorry for the delays! I really wish I could dedicate more time to FF writing, but unfortunately it's just not meant to be at the moment. Anyway, hope you like.**

**Warning: Strong language here and there *screams*  
**

**Disclaimer: Not my characters, etc. See earlier chapters.  
**

* * *

Turning his back on Spinner's End to, once again, trudge in the direction of the forest was the veritable cherry on top of Remus' misery. With the lightest dusting of rain gradually seeping its way through his hair and clothing, and the paper parcel in his right hand containing a potion to prevent post-polyjuice dizziness, he couldn't help but wish it would just bloody _pour _already. None of this mincing drizzle; it was so unsuitable – so unceremonious – for his current state of mind. He wanted it to cascade from the heavens; to fucking _drench_ him - if not for psychological-cleansing reasons, then for simply washing away the grime which had no doubt accumulated on his body over the last few days.

Lupin neared the final house of the terrace - with a battered car in it's mossy driveway and an English flag draped from a second-storey window - before taking the corner. And there to meet him, hanging from the metal railings of a gate and looking impossibly bored, was a group of pimple-faced, gormless boys; five, to be exact, and each of them no more than fourteen years old. Before he could turn on his heel and plan an altogether different route, Remus had already been seen and targeted. The youths' eyes had literally widened with relish once Lupin's hunched figure had appeared in their midst, as though he were one of their greasy chip-shop dinners.

Feeling too exhausted and wholly unprepared for a verbal battle with the boys, Remus fixed an unrelenting stare on the ground below and continued forward, hoping against hope that the next few seconds would go by smoothly.

It wasn't long, however, until one of the pack broke away from the rest to boldly approach Remus. The boy then brazenly blocked the lycanthrope's path with all the bravado of someone twice his size. Lupin was suddenly very aware of how frail he looked; so frail that a squeaky-voiced boy had honed in on him as easy prey. Nevertheless, his downwards stare remained steadfast. Of course, he had a distinct advantage over the youngsters, but under no circumstances could he utilise this advantage – or rather, his wand - in the presence of muggles.

'Oi! Who're you?'

Remus' jaw tightened, yet he continued onward, brushing past the boy.

'Are you deaf?' he persisted in Remus' wake, 'I _said,_ who're you?'

'Nobody,' Remus muttered, but much to his annoyance, he could hear the footsteps of the boy trailing along directly behind him.

'Did you get your clothes out of a rubbish tip or summink?' the youngster jeered. His friends snorted in appreciation.

'Oi, Collins!' the boy suddenly called back to his group, still refusing to give up on the pursuit of the man, 'Collins, look at this twat!'

Lupin heaved an agitated sigh, but his brisk pace did not falter for one moment. The forest was drawing closer, and, with any luck, the children would soon become bored with their plaything and give up.

Collins had caught up with his boisterous friend, and he now skipped along in front of Remus, squinting his eyes to get a proper look at the man.

'Fuckin'ell!' exclaimed Collins loudly, 'He looks rougher than your mum, Dillon! More hair on his chin than her an' all!'

'Eh? Fuck off!' Dillon spat.

The boys fell silent and whispered amongst themselves for a moment. Numerous pairs of footsteps could be heard behind Remus now, and his pace quickened. Then, in a chorus of screeches and drawls, they began to sing:

'On your own, on your own, on your ooowwn! On your own, on your own, on your ooowwn!'

And on and on it went.

It quickly escalated, and Lupin could soon feel the pelting of small stones against his back. He balled his fists, with the grip around the parcel in his hand tightening considerably – that is, until it was forcefully whipped out of his grasp from behind. Remus stopped in his tracks and twisted around to glare at the group of boys, his red-rimmed eyes now blazing with anger. His gaze fell on a grinning Dillon, the ringleader, who now held Remus' parcel in his arms.

'What's this?' he sneered up at Lupin, taking a step backwards, 'Is it for me? Can I open it?'

'Open it, Dillon!' one of the others goaded.

'Don't do it,' Remus ordered him hoarsely.

'Why not?'

'I bet it's it's his make-up!'

'Are you a poofter?' Dillon asked, animating his face with a bemused expression.

Remus stepped forward and held his hand out to the boy.

'Give it back. Now.'

'Oh, he's angry!'

'Yeah, you better give it back to 'im or he'll cry, Dill.'

'Or he'll give you a little slap!'

'Yeah?' scoffed Dillon, 'Him and what army, eh?'

And with that, he launched into yet another chorus of 'On your own, on your own, on your ooowwn!' in which the others promptly joined.

It was then that Remus finally snapped. Overhead, the bulb of a flickering street lamp burst clean open, and thin shards of glass began to cascade downwards before falling at their feet.

'_Silencio,' _Lupin hissed.

He watched on as the grins immediately fell from the boys' faces, only to be replaced by horrified, gaping expressions. Not even a squeak could escape their lips.

Remus reached outwards and snatched his parcel back from a terrified Dillon.

'What's that?' Remus shouted, curving the palm of his hand around his ear and leaning forward, as though he were hard of hearing, '_You'll have to speak up_.'

Without waiting for an answer, Lupin then turned his back on the boys – who now stared goggle-eyed at one another - and continued on his journey to the forest where he intended to finally apparate from this dump.

'Little shits,' he muttered. He did not regret what he had done – yet, at any rate – and guessed that Spinner's End would be a lot better off with the short-term silence.

* * *

The following evening, Remus found himself located safely within the Burrow – the dimly-lit basement, to be exact – rummaging through mountains of bits and bobs in search of school trunks. At his side was a frantic Molly Weasley, grabbing objects, squinting at them, and then sighing before tossing them aside.

'One of these days, Remus – One of these days I will _drag_ Arthur down here to clean up this mess.'

Remus grinned and kept his silence; he knew that no matter how hard Molly tried, there would always be a massive surplus of _stuff_ at the burrow.

He looked to where Ginny was crouched a few meters away, happily flicking through a box of old pictures. She was utterly unfazed by all the clutter, having grown up with it all her young life.

'What do we have here?'

Something had caught Remus' eye from a far corner of the basement; an object which glimmered within the warm glow of Molly's lantern, and whose polished black exterior looked somewhat out of place amidst it's ramshackle surroundings. Lupin squinted as he approached it and reached out a hand to draw back the dusty sheet obscuring its main body. Much to his surprise, he found that it was a piano; a not-too-shabby one, at that.

'Merlin's rickety hip' Molly hissed, snapping her head up in alarm, 'You haven't found Arthur's lava lamp collection, have you? I shall have to find a better hiding place. If Arthur finds them, he'll have them all over the house for everyone to see. Such _ugly_ things!'

'Not lava lamps, no,' Remus answered, running a hand over the gold lettering just above the keys. They spelt the words: 'Steinway and Sons'.

Molly rose to her feet and aproached him.

'Ah,' she beamed with recognition once her eyes had fallen on the instrument, 'Arthur brought it home not too long ago. There was a feud going on between two wizarding families and apparently a curse was placed on the piano as some sort of prank. Each night – very late, while its owners were fast asleep – it would burst into song and wake the entire house. Anyway, they'd eventually had enough and left it to the Ministry to handle, but refused to take it back once the curse had been lifted. As you can imagine, Arthur jumped at the chance to have it.'

'It's very nice. Beautiful.'

'It _is_ rather... _large_, though,' replied Molly, tipping her head to one side,' What on earth Arthur was thinking I shall never know.'

'Perhaps you might learn to play one day,' Remus urged, 'Or you, Ginny - What do you think?'

'Me - play piano?' Ginny called dubiously from across the room, 'Not with these stubby fingers!'

'You won't be able to drag that girl away from the Quidditch field, I'm afraid,' whispered Mrs. Weasley knowingly.

Remus patted her on the arm affectionately before returning his attention to the shining object before him.

'My mother – she was a piano teacher for muggle children,' he began falteringly, 'Every weekday at 4 o'clock in the evening, a student would arrive on our doorstep and Mum would direct the boy or girl straight to the piano room – before they had the chance to see anything of a magical nature around the house, you see. An hour later, it would be another student's turn, and on and on it went for the next 5 hours or so, until the next day.

I'll always remember pressing my ear up to the piano room door while she was at work. The muggle children intrigued me and I would have introduced myself to them, if I hadn't been dreadfully shy, that is. I was very young then, of course. It was before... Well...'

Remus' voice trailed away, while his hand rose up to meet the ribs on his right hand side, the location of the initial bite and infection. The vicious infection which spread to every vein, every capillary, in his body, and began his life of painful monthly transformations.

'Once I was infected by Fenrir Greyback,' he went on, 'I noticed that my mother was taking fewer and fewer students, until one day there were none at all. I was confused at the time, because I knew how much she adored her job. But I was too young to realise that she had given it up to care for me while my father was Merlin knows where, in search of a cure.'

Ginny had left her box of pictures, and now joined Remus and Molly by the piano. Not wishing to involve her in such depressing matters, Lupin brought the conversation to a happier note.

'On the bright side, all that time alone with my mother provided me with the best piano lessons one could ever hope for! I'd always be sure to have a new piece learnt to a T, ready to play for my father once he arrived home. Every now and then he'd even sing along.'

'But you must play us something then! '

'I haven't touched a piano in a very long time, Molly - '

'Now you're not leaving this basement until you play for us, Remus. And that's that!'

'Please?' Ginny urged.

Remus scrutinized the keys for a moment. Then, with an apprehensive breath inwards, he inched out the piano stool and sat down. Resting his fingers on the cool, smooth keys, he noted how familiar it all became, and the memory of music sheets suddenly came flooding back to him.

After taking one last anxious glance up at Molly and Ginny, Remus then bowed his head and began to play one of the most treasured pieces in his repertoire; Chopin's Mazurka No. 2 in C major.

Not thirty seconds into the piece, and the sound of the doorbell upstairs reverberated through the house. Remus ceased playing, and brought his head up to look at the delighted faces of the two women.

'I'll get the door,' Molly chimed, 'Don't you move from that seat.'

Then, with a pop, the woman had vanished.

'Oh, don't stop,' Ginny beamed, and according to the girl's wishes, Remus continued on quite happily. It felt good. It felt _right_. He longed for a simple life doing just this for the rest of his days – perhaps even following in his mother's footsteps as a music teacher. But he had already resigned to the fact that this could simply never be.

As the piece entered it's final bar and his fingers slowed the tempo to bring it to a close, Remus soon noticed another presence in the room; a presence so intimidating that all colour had drained from Ginny's face. His keen gaze cut through the darkness to discover the black robes, black hair, black eyes - and finally - the identity of the visitor.

'Severus.'

Ginny looked from one man to the other, clearly searching for the easiest and quickesy way to exit the scene.

'It's alright, Ginny,' Remus smiled with an assuring nod, and she gratefully took her leave without another word.

'Apparently, your days of terrorizing children aren't over, Lupin.'

Remus' eyes narrowed for a moment before realization hit him, then he breathed out a heavy sigh in anticipation for the war of words ahead.

'Can I just explain - '

Snape's eyes darkened, ready to cut Remus off as casually and swiftly as he would a student.

'A person typically matures between their teenage years and your age, yet you continue to act as pig-headedly as you did then -'

'Those children – those _delinquents_ - deserved a lot worse than a few minutes of being mute,' interrupted Remus, 'I was lenient, if anything.'

'A few grey hairs here and some wrinkles there clearly indicate nothing about how you've progressed since childhood; nothing but the fact that your looks are vanishing.'

'Was that a back-handed compliment, Severus?' Remus sighed, inspecting his hands, before looking questioningly upwards to the glowering Slytherin, 'You're saying I _used to be_ attractive once?'

He received no reply, and in the midst of complete quiet, Remus swivelled back around in the piano chair, placed his fingers on the keys, and began to bang out a spirited version of 'Camptown Races.'

_'Camptown ladies sing this song, Doo-dah! Doo-dah!'_

In an attempt to drown out Snape's furious orders of '_Stop_ _it_', Remus merely sang louder and continued on, unperturbed.

_'I go back home with a pocket full of tin, Oh, doo-dah day!'_

And on and on he went, bathed in the memories of a time when this very rendition would make his parents laugh in unison, with the sound of his young voice flowing through the family home.

'Stop it or I'll _make_ you stop,' Snape finally uttered through grated teeth. Remus could recognise when a man was at breaking point - and he certainly saw it looming in Severus' blazing eyes - but he ignored it.

_'The blind horse stickin' in a big mud hole, Doo-dah! Doo-dah!'_

The tension was mounting, and Remus could almost feel the air temperature drop in the already chilly basement. He didn't know what his intentions in pushing the Potions Master's buttons were; all he knew was that he did not care. Snape was free to leave the Burrow; The only thing stopping him from doing so was, of course, the need to further berate Remus over the incident with the muggle children.

And before he could rouse himself enough to react in time, Remus found that both his right and left hands were rooted to the keys beneath them, with a pain shooting through all ten digits. Placed over each hand was another thin hand, pinning it down. It was then, with the faded memory of the frantic song echoing against the walls, that Remus became aware of a strange pair of arms – each one draped over his shoulders - and the weight of a person against his back. Against his left cheek, he sensed the steady rhythm of a faint breath, and a tickle of hair at the nape of his neck.

It appeared that Snape had leaned over Remus and deftly slammed his hands over the lycanthrope's to put a stop to the song, in a move that proved he always followed through on his threats.

Neither man spoke nor moved, while pain continued to resonate through Remus' rigid fingers. With reticence and uncertainty tainting the air between them, Remus found that Snape's hands were straining even tighter still over his. He suppressed a wince, and instead resolved to clench his jaw.

'I told you... to _stop_ it,' Snape breathed, inching his head just slightly to the left towards Remus' face.

Gradually, Snape's grip began to loosen until it had soon lifted away altogether. With hands snaking upwards as the Potions Master straightened his posture, his arms finally glided from Remus' shoulders completely, releasing Remus from the clinch.

Lupin watched Snape's reflection in the piano as the man took a step back and then turned in the direction of the stairs. Before the outline of his figure had disappeared upstairs, Snape paused to look back at Remus one last time.

'Those boys are no worse than your childhood clique.'

And with that, he had left.


End file.
